"Sir!" exclaimed Meggison.
"I—I beg your pardon," stammered Gilbert, looking helplessly at the wall over which he had scrambled.
"Sir—you are an intruder—a trespasser upon the privacy of my family, my home, and my property!" said Mr. Meggison, keeping his voice remarkably low, and watching the door leading to the house. "What do you mean by it, sir?—what do you want?"
"There is nothing to make a fuss about, Mr. Meggison," said Gilbert quietly. "I live next door here; I came over in order to have a word or two with—with your daughter."
"Nothing to make a fuss about?" echoed Meggison, still in those cautious tones. "Came over to see my daughter? And what do you suppose, sir, her father will have to say to such a proceeding?"
"I do not wish to be offensive, Mr. Meggison," said the younger man—"but I fancy her father has not troubled very much about her until this moment. Don't bluster, sir; I am her friend before everything else."
Daniel Meggison took a step forward, and looked at the other; took a step back, and rolled his head threateningly; took another step forward, and laid a hand on Byfield's arm. "Sir," he said solemnly—"I am sure of it. Only you must forgive the anger and the suspicion of a parent to whom his child is very precious. She has no mother, sir."
"I know that," said Gilbert. "I had no right, of course, to trespass on your premises, Mr. Meggison—for that I owe you an apology. But I——"
"Not another word, sir—not another word, I beg," exclaimed Meggison, taking his hand and wringing it. "I like the look of you, sir; I like the blunt fearlessness with which you scramble over a wall; you are a man, sir!"