John’s face was a study.
“I never thought to live to hear you say that, Squire.”
“I only said from his point of view,” cried the Squire, hastily. “He’s naturally, perhaps, a little jealous; you were here so many years, you know, and of course, like all young men—young men will have foolish notions, John—he thinks his way is the best way. We old fogies must just give in for the sake of peace and comfort.”
“Noo ways,” agreed the old man, sorrowfully; “noo folks and noo ways.”
“As you heard me say just now,” resumed his master, “I don’t interfere with him, and, upon my life, I think it’s better you shouldn’t interfere, John. I fancy it would be wiser if you could just keep away for a little bit—then no one could say you were trespassing, you know.”
“I’ll keep away, Squire,” said John. “No fear; I’ll keep away. Ye’ll not have to tell I that twice.”
“You and I are free to have our own opinions, of course,” urged the Squire, smiling, “but we’ll keep them to ourselves—these young folks you know——”
But John did not smile in return; his head, always bent, drooped almost to his breast, his lips moved, but uttered no sound. After a moment or two, he pulled his forelock, scraped his leg, and turned to depart.
“You’re not going, John?”
“’E-es, sir, I be goin’, I bain’t wanted here no more. As you do say, noo times——”