“What is very odd, sir?”
“Never you mind, Johnny.”
This was after breakfast on the Saturday morning. The Squire was opening a letter that the post had brought, and looked up to ask me. Not that the letter had anything to do with Clement-Pell, for it only enclosed a bill for some ironmongery bought at Evesham.
On the Friday the Whitneys had gone home, and Tod with them. So I was alone: with nothing to do but to wish him back again.
“I am going to Alcester, Johnny,” said the Pater, in the course of the morning. “You can come with me if you like.”
“Then will you please bring me back some money?” cried Mrs. Todhetley. “You will pass the Bank, I suppose.”
“It’s where I am going,” returned the Pater: and I thought his voice had rather a grumbling tone in it.
We took the pony-carriage, and he let me drive. It was as hot as ever; and the Squire wondered when the autumn cool would be coming in. Old Brandon happened to be at his gate as we went by, and the Pater told me to pull up.
“Going in to Alcester?” cried Mr. Brandon.