“And the company will take the timber off his hands, I suppose,” said she. “Only it’s likely Jacob will be pretty much the company himself—at least he will have most to say in it. He most generally does.”
“But it seems to me that Jacob should not have undertaken so much without consulting me,” said the squire, with some excitement. “It seems to me he’s going ahead pretty fast, isn’t he?”
“Oh! he’s told you all about it, I expect. You’ve forgotten. Your memory isn’t what it once was, you know.”
But the squire was inclined to resent the idea that he could have forgotten a matter of such importance, and though Mrs Jacob assured him that his son had gone away for the day to Fosbrooke, it was all that his daughter could do to prevent him from going in search of him. She almost regretted not permitting him to go, however, for he would not leave the subject, and insisted on Mrs Jacob telling him all about the matter. She, with less sense and more malice than Elizabeth could have supposed possible, went on to tell of what was to be done, and went over the old grievance as to Mr Fleming’s obstinacy in refusing to come to terms for a piece of land which was the best for the mill-site, and good for very little else, “just to spite Jacob.”
“We won’t talk about that,” said the squire, seeming to forget the first cause of grievance. “Jacob knows my mind about that matter. And it is doubtful whether the company they talk about will ever amount to much—at least for a time.”
“Well, it isn’t for me to say. But I must go. They’ll think at home that I am lost,” and as she rose and pushed away her chair, she added in a voice that the squire could not hear, “It is not for me to say much about it. But Jacob generally does get things fixed pretty much to his mind, and I guess he sees his way clear to get this as well. Of course it will be just as much for Mr Fleming’s benefit as for the rest of the town, and his land will be paid for, he needn’t fear that.”
At the first mention of her grandfather’s name, Katie had risen, and she was standing with burning cheeks and shining eyes when Mrs Jacob turned toward her to say good-bye.
“I hope you’ll come and make me a visit before you go home. If Lizzie can spare you I shall be pleased to have you come any day—say to-morrow. Will you come?”
“No,” said Katie, and then she sat down and put her book to her face lest Mrs Jacob should see the angry tears which she feared would not be kept back. For once in her life Mrs Jacob looked uncomfortable and disconcerted in Elizabeth’s presence. Elizabeth uttered not one of the many angry words that had almost risen to her lips, but opened the door and closed it again with only the usual words of good-bye.