“Hold our horses, young man, will you? we want to light our pipes.”
“By all means,” said Edward, coming to the little garden-gate. Both men alighted, and he could see that they were well armed. They walked directly to the door; and seeing the old man seated by the fire, one of them said—
“We want to light our pipes, Master Catchpole. It is a blustering night. Have you a tobacco-pipe, for I have broken mine rather short?”
The old man took one from his corner and gave it to young Barry, whom, from his likeness to his brother, he could distinguish, and simply said, "You are welcome to it, sir.”
“Your son sent us on a wrong scent to-night.”
“I do not think he did so knowingly. I heard him say he met you; and he told me he directed you aright.”
“We saw nothing of the cart. We have reason to believe that a rich cargo of goods has been landed at Felixstowe, and that the last cart-load went along this road to Ipswich. Have you had any of your old seafaring friends here? Are there any here now? You know who I mean.”
“You may search and see for yourself. Every door of this house will open at your trial. If that is sufficient answer to your question, you are welcome to take it. Nay, I wish most heartily that you and your brother had been my friends long before the one to whom you allude had ever darkened my door.”
When the young man remembered his brother’s attachment, and the really worthy object of it, there was a grateful feeling which came over his mind, notwithstanding the disappointment which his brother, himself, and his family had experienced, which made him feel respect for the old man.
“I thank you, Master Catchpole—I thank you. Had such been the case, you might have had a good son, and I should not have lost a good brother; and in my conscience I believe I should have gained a good sister. But there is no accounting for a woman’s taste. I tell you honestly, Master Catchpole, that for your daughter’s sake I wish her lover, or the man she loves, were a worthier character.”