"Oh! Lord, yes," he said, "to be sure. My work and my interests are here right enough—very much here. I'm not ashamed of the word 'local,' or of the word 'provincial' either, Mr. Savage. My father invented Stourmouth, as you may say, and I've patented his invention. Stourmouth owes a good deal to the two Joseph Challoners, father and son; and I propose it should owe a long sight more, one way and another, before I join my poor old daddy 'under the churchyard sod.'"
"It is an act of piety to devote one's talents and energies to the welfare of one's native place," Adrian returned.
And therewith, judging he had made sufficient concession to the exigencies of the position in the matter of general conversation, he rose to depart. But Challoner stopped him.
"Just half a minute, will you please, Mr. Savage," he said. "It occurs to me if we're not likely to meet for some time there's one matter I ought to mention to you. I don't exactly care to take the whole onus of the thing upon my own shoulders. Of course, if you're cognizant of it, there's the beginning and end of the story as far as my responsibility goes. I may have my own opinion as to the wisdom, and—not to mince matters—the honesty of the arrangement. But, if you are aware of it and approve, my mouth, of course, is shut. Has Miss Smyrthwaite told you of the alteration she proposes making in her will?"
"Yes, she spoke of it to-day; and I dissuaded her from making it."
Challoner sucked in his breath with a soft whistle.
"Indeed?" he said. "That's a self-denying ordinance."
Adrian held himself extremely erect. His eyebrows were raised and the tip of his pugnacious nose was very much in the air.
"Pardon me, but I do not quite follow you," he said.
"Miss Smyrthwaite didn't explain the nature of the alterations very fully then, I take it?"