"Then there's the 'Sun in the Sands' on Shooter's Hill—a fine inn an' not to be sneezed at, Barnabas—we might take that."
"Just as you wish, father, only—"
"Though I've often thought the 'Greyhound' at Croydon would be a comfortable house to own."
"Buy whichever you choose, father, it will be all one to me!"
"Good lad!" nodded John, "you can leave it all to Natty Bell an' me."
"Yes," said Barnabas, rising and fronting his father across the table, "you see I intend to go away, sir."
"Eh?" exclaimed his father, staring—"go away—where to?"
"To London!"
"London? and what should you want in London—a slip of a lad like you?"
"I'm turned twenty-two, father!"