“Umph! All there, is it?”
“Yes, sir.”
The old man did not speak for awhile. He seemed to be at a loss, and Clement, who had other and more serious business on his mind, and had his own reasons for feeling ill at ease, waited anxiously. He was desperately afraid of making a false step.
Suddenly, “Who was your grandfather?” the Squire asked.
Clement started and colored. “He had the same name as my father,” he said. “He was a clothier in Aldersbury.”
“Ay, I mind him. I mind him now. And his father, young man?”
“His name was Clement,” and foreseeing the next question, “he was a yeoman at Easthope.”
“And his father?”
Clement reddened painfully. He saw only too well to what these questions were tending. “I don’t know, sir,” he said.
“And you set up—you set up,” said the Squire, leaning forward and speaking very slowly, “to marry my heiress?”