"Well, young man, what brought you here?" he said scornfully.
"I came on foot," was the reply, and Ralph threw as much scorn into his voice as the squire had done.
"Oh, no doubt—no doubt!" the squire said, bridling. "But I have no time to waste in listening to impertinences. What is your business?"
"I came to tell you that my father is dead."
"Dead!" Sir John gasped. "No, surely? I never heard he was ill!"
"He was taken with a stroke early yesterday morning, and he died an hour ago."
"Only an hour ago? Dear me!"
"I came straight away from his deathbed to let you know that you had killed him."
"That I had killed him!" Sir John exclaimed, with a gasp.
"You might have seen it in his face, when you told him that you had let the farm over his head, and that he was to be turned out of the little home he had built with his own hands."