"I knew that, then what is it? Not—not trouble, nothing amiss with—between you and her?"
"No, thank God!"
"Thank God!" the old man said. "And so—so it isn't that and therefore it can't be anything bad—so I'm waiting, Allan, waiting, dear lad, tell me."
"Father, if I did you could not understand."
"I'd try, Allan," the old man said simply.
"Then, by Heaven I will tell you, father, and you shall try and understand, though—though if you do, you will be more clever than I, for I cannot understand." Allan lifted his hand to his head for a moment.
"Do you remember something that you told me once about—an ancestor of ours—whose name was the same as mine—a labourer here—a gardener, who married his mistress' serving maid?"
"And whose son went to London and took over the Green Gates in Aldgate—why of course I do!"
"Well," said Allan quietly, "that's it——"
Sir Josiah looked at him. "God bless my soul!" he said, and if ever there were mystification on a man's face, it was on his.