“Friendly? of course we are. Can’t you see?” replied Mr Jabez snappishly.
“No! How should I know? Like him to know anything about your affairs?” said Mr Peter, turning to me.
“Oh yes,” I said. “Mr Jabez Rowle is a very great friend of mine.”
“Right!” said that individual, giving his head a nod.
“I didn’t come up on purpose to see you, Jabez,” said Mr Peter.
“Who said you did?” snapped Mr Jabez. “What did you come for? About what you said?”
“Yes.”
There was another awkward pause, fortunately broken by Mary, who entered with a tray odorous with hot rump-steak and onions: and as soon as he smelt it, Mr Peter stood his pipe up in the corner of the fireplace, and softly rubbed his hands.
His brother made no scruple about joining the meal, and as the brothers rose, Mr Jabez held out his hand with—
“Well, how are you, Peter?”