“When are you goin’ to set him up for himself at Trellick?” Clara inquired, obedient to her favourite nephew’s instructions.
Penhallow grunted. “Time enough for that. He’s useful to Ray here.”
“I don’t believe Ray wants him, or any of them,” said Faith.
“Oh, you don’t, don’t you?” said Penhallow, bending a fierce stare upon her. “And what do you know about it, I should like to know?”
Her colour fluctuated, as it always did when he spoke roughly to her. She replied defensively: “Oh, nothing! Only Ray never makes any secret of the fact that he thinks there are too many people in this house. And, really...”
He interrupted her brusquely. “Ray’s not master here yet, and so I’ll thank him to remember! I’ll have whom I choose in the house, and be damned to the lot of you!”
“Now, Adam, don’t put yourself in a temper for nothin’!” his sister admonished him. “Ray doesn’t mean anythin’. He’s cross-grained, but he’s got a good heart, and if Faith hasn’t got more sense than to believe every word he says when he’s a bit put out, it’s time she had. All the same, ’tisn’t natural for a young fellow like Bart to be hanging about with no more to do than Ray gives him, and, if I were you, I’d set him up on his own. Keep him out of mischief, I daresay.”
“I don’t mind his mischief,” replied Penhallow cheerfully. “I’ll hand over Trellick to him in my own good time. Won’t hurt him to stay at home for a while longer, and learn what Ray can drum into his thick head. He’s feckless, that lad. Ray’s a dull dog, but he knows his job. I’ll say that for him.”
So Clara had presently to report failure to Bart, who grimaced, and said: “Blast!”
“I daresay he’ll change his mind, give him time,” she said consolingly. She looked at him with mild curiosity. “What’s got into you all of a sudden, Bart, to make you so keen to get to work? Not thinkin’ of gettin’ married, are you?”