“Uncle, you must invite him here before we are many weeks older,” said the latter.
“But he hates the place, and won’t come.”
“He hates the place undoubtedly, but he will come all the same if you couch your invitation properly.”
“In what terms would you like me to couch it?”
“Pardon me for saying so, but you have only got to hint that you feel you are growing old, and that you have serious thoughts of making your will before long, and then press him to come and see you.”
“And you think the bait will tempt him?”
“I am sure of it. Your property would make a nice addition to his income. He would be the most dutiful and affectionate of nephews as long as you lived; he would bury you with every outward semblance of regret; and a month later there would be another horse in his stable at Newmarket.”
“Faith, I believe you’re right, Dick! But not a single penny of my money will ever go to Kester St. George. All the same I’ll write the letter in the way you wish it to be written, when you tell me that the time for sending it has come.”
“We will let Christmas get quietly over, and then we will talk about it again.”
But still the General was puzzled. “I’m bothered if I can comprehend why you want to invite Kester to Park Newton,” he said. “You hate the man, and yet you want me to ask him to come and stop under the same roof with you, where you must, out of common courtesy, meet him once or twice a day all the time he is here.”