“Yes, indeed. Glad to see you, Mrs. Lindale! And you, Lindale.” His deep-set eyes travelled to the tennis-courts. “Warrenby not here? Good opportunity for the rest of us to talk over this business about the River Board. Where's Henry, Adelaide?”
“Well, I expect he'll be back before you leave.” replied Mrs. Haswell. “Though if it's about this tiresome River Board affair, I do wish— However, it's not my business, so you'd better talk to Henry. I must say, it does seem a lot of fuss about very little.”
“One does so want to avoid unpleasantness,” said Mrs. Cliburn. “Of course, it isn't anything to do with us either, but Tony and I can't help feeling that it would be a shame to appoint anyone but Mr. Drybeck to act for this new River Board. I mean, he always did when it was the Catchment Board, didn't he? And he'd be bound to feel very badly about it, particularly if Mr. Warrenby was appointed instead of him. But I oughtn't to give my opinion,” she added hastily.
“Well, well, it isn't such a great matter, after all!” said the Squire. “We must see what Haswell thinks.”
“Dad won't support Warrenby, sir,” interpolated Charles. “I know that. For one thing, he's dead against hurting poor old Drybeck's feelings.”
“Charles!” said his mother, with a warning glance towards the tennis-court.
“All right, Mum: they can't hear us. And, for another, he's just about had Warrenby, muscling into every damned thing here!”
“Nor is he alone in his surfeit,” said Gavin. “I too shall oppose Warrenby. I feel sure Walter would have: he always opposed people.”
The Squire threw him a frowning look, but said nothing. Kenelm Lindale, lighting a cigarette, and carefully pressing the spent match into the ground, said: “Well, I don't want to hurt Drybeck's feelings either, but, to tell you the truth, I don't really know much about this River Board.”
“And you a riparian owner!” said Charles, shocked. “There used to be one Catchment Board for the Rushy, here, and another one for the Crail, which for your better information is—”