“It is almost time I gave my team a rest,” he said. “Will you come with me to the house?”
“No,” said Colonel Barrington. “We only stopped in passing. The crop will harvest well.”
“Yes,” said Witham, turning with a little smile to Miss Barrington. “Better than I expected, and prices are still moving up. You will remember, madam, who it was wished me good fortune. It has undeniably come!”
“Then,” said the white-haired lady, “next year I will do as much again, though it will be a little unnecessary, because you have my good wishes all the time. Still, you are too prosaic to fancy they can have anything to do with—this.”
She pointed to the wheat, but though Witham smiled again, there was a curious expression in his face as he glanced at her niece.
“I certainly do, and your good-will has made a greater difference than you realize to me,” he said.
Miss Barrington looked at him steadily. “Lance,” she said, “there is something about you and your speeches that occasionally puzzles me. Now, of course, that was the only rejoinder you could make, but I fancied you meant it.”
“I did,” said Witham, with a trace of grimness in his smile. “Still, isn’t it better to tell any one too little rather than too much?”
“Well,” said Miss Barrington, “you are going to be franker with me by and by. Now, my brother has been endeavouring to convince us that you owe your success to qualities inherited from bygone Courthornes.”
Witham did not answer for a moment and then he laughed. “I fancy Colonel Barrington is wrong,” he said. “Don’t you think there are latent capabilities in every man, though only one here and there gets an opportunity of using them? In any case, wouldn’t it be pleasanter for any one to feel that his virtues were his own and not those of his family?”