Fox looked questioningly at the old man. His tone was changed.
"Bessie will bring luck that will adhere to whatever hand holds her," said the young man.
"No doubt—no doubt," said the Squire. "You may walk at our side, and I will have a word with thee. Come on to Hall if it give thee pleasure. The road is well known to thee, thou hast trod it many a time of late. I doubt but soon thou thinkest to set up thy home there, and not to have to run to and fro as heretofore."
Fox looked again inquiringly and uneasily at the old man. He did not understand this new style of banter.
"Thou hast helped Bessie now into pillion, and I suppose thou art reckoning on the stuffing of the pad on to which thou thinkest her hand will help thee up, eh?"
Fox, usually ready with a word, was uncertain how to meet these sallies, and still remained silent.
The old man rode on, casting an occasional glance, full of cynicism, at young Crymes, who walked at the side of the horse.
Fox would not return till he was enlightened on this change in his manner; nor would he say much, resolving on silence as the best method of forcing old Cleverdon to show what was in his mind.
"What dost say to Anthony coming home?" asked the Squire of his daughter, turning his head over his shoulder.
"Anthony—is he really coming to Hall?" gasped Bessie, her heart leaping with gladness.