Old Squire Cleverdon started to his feet, and strode, muttering, about the room.
"Ah! It is a thought to consider. The Knightons have lost their heir, and he was a fine and lusty youth. Our Anthony is so thoughtless; he runs where he lists, and does not consider that he may be near infection. Please the Lord nothing may happen; but suppose that he were carried off, who would have Hall? Bessie?"
"Bessie! Are you mad?" Old Cleverdon put his hands in his breeches-pocket and turned and scowled at his sister.
"No. I reckon Bessie would be put off with scant treatment, like myself. Then, Luke?"
"Luke!" Cleverdon burst out laughing. "Never a parson here in Hall, if I can help it. A shaveling like he——"
"Then, who would have it?"
"Not you, if you are aiming thereat," said Cleverdon.
"I was not aiming at that. Such a prospect never rose before me. I do not want Hall. I could not manage the estate."
"I shall take care you have not the chance."