"No, no!"
"Well then I'm wrong, but it might happen, and if I turned out to be right I wouldn't like you to have to say no to Kathleen's father, boy, I wouldn't like that—and it might hurt her, our—our little girl—eh, if she knew."
"Our little girl," what a wealth of tenderness and love in those three words! It was never "her ladyship" now, it was just that: "our little girl." Allan felt something sting in his eyes for a moment, his hand rested more heavily on his father's shoulder.
"No, I wouldn't like to hurt her in any way, even that way, Allan, so—so if his lordship should—and it seems to me very likely that his lordship may—why do you see, Allan, you can draw on me. Of course he won't never pay back, that's not to be looked for nor expected and one thing he wouldn't expect to get a wonderful lot out of you—so if he does ask you must say Yes—up to five hundred, Allan, and then let me know quietly, and there you are, there you are, my boy!"
"I wonder if there is another man in all the world like my father?" Allan said.
"Bless you, heaps and heaps and a sight better. But there's one thing, Allan, there's never a father in this world as knows and loves his son as I know and love mine and so—so boy—out with it, out with it now and here."
They had come to a shady place, under the tall yews. Here was an inviting seat and on the seat Sir Josiah settled himself and drew Allan down beside him.
"Out with it—with what, father?" Allan asked lamely.
"Why out with what's worrying you, my boy; do you think I didn't see it, do you think when I saw you first thing this morning and took just one look at you I didn't see it there—there in your face and eyes? Why bless you, of course I did; it ain't money, Allan?"
"No, no!"