“Well, no, I suppose I havenʼt”, said Clayton, very submissively; at any other time he would have said, “Oh, havenʼt I”? for it was a moot point between them. “But, Craddy, you shall have half, at any rate. I wonʼt touch it, unless you take half”.
“Then the estates must go to the Queen, or to Mr. Nowell Corklemore, your especial friend, Viley”.
Clayton was famed for his mimicry of the pompous Mr. Corklemore, and he could not resist it now, though the tears were still in his eyes.
“Haw, yes; I estimate so, sir. A mutually agreeable and unobjectionable arrangement, sir. Is that your opinion? Haw”! and Clayton stroked an imaginary beard, and closed one eye at the ceiling. Cradock laughed from habit; and Clayton laughed because Cradock did.
Oh that somebody had come by to see them thus on the very best terms, as loving as when they whipped tops together, or practised Sir Roger de Coverley! They agreed to slip away that evening from the noise of the guests and the winebibbing, and have a quiet jug of ale in Cradockʼs little snuggery. There they would smoke their pipes together, and consider the laws of inheritance. Already they were beginning to laugh and joke about the matter; what odds about the change of position, if they only maintained the brotherhood? Unluckily no one came near them. The servants were gathered in their own hall, discussing the great discovery; Sir Cradock was gone to the Rectory to meet John Rosedew upon his return, and counsel how to manage things. Even the ubiquitous Dr. Hutton had his especial alibi. He had rushed away to catch Mr. Garnet and the illumination folk, that the necessary changes might be made in the bedizenment of the oak–tree.
Suddenly Clayton exclaimed, “Oh, what a fool I am, Craddy! I forgot a most important thing, until it is nearly too late for it”.
“What”? asked Cradock, eagerly, for he saw there was great news coming.
“When I was out with the governor to–day, what do you think I saw”?
“What, what, my boy? Out with it”.