“All right,” said Geoffrey, “but I advise you to look out. I fancy that the old man is a rough customer.”
Then Geoffrey went back to his dinner.
As they sat at the meal, through a gap in the fir trees they saw that the great majority of the population of Bryngelly was streaming up towards the scene of the sale, some to agitate, and some to see the fun.
“It is pretty well time to be off,” said Geoffrey. “Are you coming, Mr. Granger?”
“Well,” answered the old gentleman, “I wished to do so, but Elizabeth thinks that I had better keep away. And after all, you know,” he added airily, “perhaps it is as well for a clergyman not to mix himself up too much in these temporal matters. No, I want to go and see about some pigs at the other end of the parish, and I think that I shall take this opportunity.”
“You are not going, Mr. Bingham, are you?” asked Beatrice in a voice which betrayed her anxiety.
“Oh, yes,” he answered, “of course I am. I would not miss the chance for worlds. Why, Beecham Bones is going to be there, the member of Parliament who has just done his four months for inciting to outrage. We are old friends; I was at school with him. Poor fellow, he was mad even in those days, and I want to chaff him.”
“I think that you had far better not go, Mr. Bingham,” said Beatrice; “they are a very rough set.”
“Everybody is not so cowardly as you are,” put in Elizabeth. “I am going at any rate.”
“That’s right, Miss Elizabeth,” said Geoffrey; “we will protect each other from the revolutionary fury of the mob. Come, it is time to start.”