“Oh, thank you kindly, ma’am,” cried Mrs Dean; “and me thinking all kinds of evil of you, and that you had been persuading him to go.”
“No, no, my good woman, no,” said Mr John.
“And thank you too, sir. And I hope Mr Gordon will take it to heart, for if he had gone my Esau would have been sure to go too, and I should have seemed to be quite alone in the world.”
“Yes, it would be hard for you,” said Mrs John, looking at her searchingly. “Mayne, my dear, you will not try and influence her son?”
I shook my head.
“Oh, but he don’t, ma’am, never,” said Mrs Dean, eagerly; “he crosses him; but my Esau always sets Mr Gordon here up for a hidle, and thinks whatever he does must be right.”
“Why, Mayne,” said Mr John, smiling, “I did not know you were such a model boy.”
“Oh, but he is, sir,” cried Mrs Dean; “and my Esau is ever so much better since—”
“I’m going for a walk,” I said, with my face scarlet.
But just then there was a tap at the door, to which Mrs Dean responded, and came back directly with a little tray, on which was her favourite black teapot and its companions.