“I don't mind a bit, Edward.”
“You ought to mind, when it is your own house, and you buy the food and pay your housekeeper. It is an outrage!”
“I don't mind, really, Edward.”
Dr. Hayward regarded Jim with a curious expression compounded of love, anger, and contempt. “Any more talk of legal proceedings?” he asked, brusquely.
Jim flushed. “Tom ought not to tell of that.”
“Yes, he ought; he ought to tell it all over town. He doesn't, but he ought. It is an outrage! Here you have been all these years supporting your nieces, and they are working away like field-mice, burrowing under your generosity, trying to get a chance to take action and appropriate your property and have you put under a guardian.”
“I don't mind a bit,” said Jim; “but—”
The other man looked inquiringly at him, and, seeing a pitiful working of his friend's face, he jumped up and got a little jar from a shelf. “We will drop the whole thing until we have had our chops and chutney,” said he. “You are right; it is not worth minding. Here is a new brand of tobacco I want you to try. I don't half like it, myself, but you may.”
Jim, with a pleased smile, reached out for the tobacco, and the two men smoked until Sam brought the luncheon. It was well cooked and well served on an antique table. Jim was thoroughly happy. It was not until the luncheon was over and another pipe smoked that the troubled, perplexed expression returned to his face.
“Now,” said Hayward, “out with it!”