"Nor heard of him?"
"No!—have you?"
"Strange to say, not for a long time. But I have reason to believe that he must be doing well."
"You surprise me! Why?"
"Because, two years ago, he sent for his mother. She went to him."
"Is that all?"
"It is enough; for he would not have sent for her if he could not maintain her."
Here the Hazeldeans entered, arm-in-arm, and the fat butler announced dinner.
The Squire was unusually taciturn—Mrs Hazeldean thoughtful—Mrs Dale languid, and headachy. The Parson, who seldom enjoyed the luxury of converse with a scholar, save when he quarrelled with Dr Riccabocca, was animated, by Randal's repute for ability, into a great desire for argument.
"A glass of wine, Mr Leslie. You were saying, before dinner, that burlesque Greek is not a knowledge very much in power at present. Pray, sir, what knowledge is in power?"