"Oh! you'll find it quite tolerable," said French. "Roads and schools do as well as anything else to break one's teeth on. We shall see you a magistrate directly."
Roger laughed. "That would be a good one!—I say, you know, I hope Daphne's going to like Heston."
French hoped so too, guardedly.
"I hear the Archdeacon got on her nerves yesterday?"
He looked at his companion with a slight laugh and a shrug.
"That doesn't matter."
"I don't know. He's rather a spiteful old party. And Daphne's accustomed to be made a lot of, you know. In London there's always a heap of people making up to her—and in Paris, too. She talks uncommon good French—learnt it in the convent. I don't understand a word of what they talk about—but she's a queen—I can tell you! She doesn't want Archdeacons prating at her."
"It'll be all right when she knows the people."
"Of course, mother and I get along here all right. We've got to pick up the threads again; but we do know all the people, and we like the old place for grandfather's sake, and all the rest of it. But there isn't much to amuse Daphne here."
"She'll be doing up the house."