“’Specially that neighbour,” said Pratt, meaningly.
“With all my neighbours,” said Trevor.
“You’ve made a nice beginning, then,” said Pratt.
“If there is any fresh upset, Humphrey, let me know; but don’t pick a quarrel,” said Trevor. “I shall not go any farther to-day.”
“Very well, sir,” said the keeper; and then in an undertone, as he stooped and patted the dog, “Kick you, would he, Juno, lass? Never mind, then, he shall have it back some day.”
The dog whined and leaped up at him, as he rose again, and looked after his master.
“Well, he’s grown into a fine, bold-speaking gentleman,” he said to himself; “but I should have liked it better if he’d tackled to and helped me to thrash them two ill-looking blackguards.”
Meanwhile Trevor and his old schoolfellow had been walking sharply back towards the house, where they were evidently being watched for by the old butler, Lloyd—the remains of a fine-looking man, for he was bent now, though his eyes were clear and bright.
“I saw you coming across the park, Master Dick,” he said, his face shining with pleasure. “You’ll have a bit of lunch now, won’t you?”
“Early yet, isn’t it?” said Pratt.