Mr. Pendyce pursued his thoughts.
“We've gone on,” he said, “father and son for hundreds of years. It's a blow to me, Barter.”
Again the Rector emitted that low sound.
“What will the village think?” said Mr. Pendyce; “and the farmers— I mind that more than anything. Most of them knew my dear old father—not that he was popular. It's a bitter thing.”
The Rector said:
“Well, well, Pendyce, perhaps it won't come to that.”
He looked a little shamefaced, and his light eyes were full of something like contrition.
“How does Mrs. Pendyce take it?”
The Squire looked at him for the first time.
“Ah!” he said; “you never know anything about women. I'd as soon trust a woman to be just as I'd— I'd finish that magnum; it'd give me gout in no time.”