“The relations existing between us are strained; he may at any moment send me from the house for good and all.”
Barbara laughed. “I am quite sure he is guiltless of any such intention.”
“I regret to say that I am not.”
Philip regarded Mr. Gerard as a person of one idea, and that invariably a wrong one. It was neither safe nor agreeable to be so at his mercy, for he held Philip's happiness in the hollow of his hand, and that young gentleman was much oppressed by the suspicion that he was not popular with Barbara's parent. When he questioned her she always assured him that her father respected him most thoroughly, but Philip doubted this.
It must be admitted that now and then he detected a pugnacious quality in Mr. Gerard's manner toward him, which he stubbornly declined to notice or take exception to, as every other consideration was minor to the great one of gaining time in which to place himself beyond the reach of interference, so he put his pride in his pocket and strove to prevent a clash.
Mr. Gerard appeared suddenly in the doorway.
“I wish you would come with me into the library, Philip,” he said. “There is a little matter I should like to discuss with you. Barbara will, I am sure, excuse you for a few moments.”
Philip came to his feet on the instant. The parable of the spider and the fly presented itself to him.
“How do you do,” he said. He was not at his best when Mr. Gerard was about.
“Just follow me into the library, if you please.” For Philip was gazing stupidly at him.