"How do you do, Squire Dixon?" she said. "It does me good to see you. But I needn't ask for your health, you look so fine and noble this morning."
Squire Dixon was far from being inaccessible to flattery.
"I am very well, I thank you, my good friend, Mrs. Fogson," he said in a stately tone, with a gracious smile upon his florid countenance. "And how are you yourself?"
"As well as I can be, squire, thanking you for asking, but them paupers is trials, as I daily discover."
"Nothing new in the way of trouble, I hope, Mrs. Fogson?"
"Well, no; but walk in and I'll send for my husband. He would never forgive me if I didn't send for him when you were here. Master Percy, forgive me for not speaking to you before. I hear such good accounts of you from everybody. Your father is indeed fortunate to have such a son."
Percy raised his eyebrows a little. Even he was aware of his unpopularity, and he wondered who had been speaking so well of him.
"I'm all right!" he answered curtly.
Squire Dixon, too, though he overestimated Percy, who was popularly regarded as a chip of the old block, was at a loss to know why he should be proud of him. Still it was pleasing to have one so near to him complimented.
"You are kind to speak of Percy in that way," he said.