“You know that cottage, sir, at the corner of Piefinch Lane. George Reed’s.”
“Well?”
“I have come to ask you not to let it be sold.”
“Who wants to sell it?” asked he, after a pause.
“Major Parrifer wants to buy it; and to turn Reed out. The lawyers are going to arrange it.”
Mr. Brandon pushed the cap up on his brow and gave the tassel over his ear a twirl as he looked at me. People thought him incapable; but it was only because he had no work to do that he seemed so. He would get a bit irritable sometimes; very rarely though; and he had a squeaky voice: but he was a good and just man.
“How did you hear this, Johnny?”
I told him all about it. What Reed had said, and of our having met the Major on horseback as we drove along.
“He came here, but I did not feel well enough to see him,” said Mr. Brandon. “Johnny, you know that I stand in place of your father, as regards your property; to do the best I can with it.”
“Yes, sir. And I am sure you do it.”