attempt it’—ah, but the gentleman doesn’t say you are a young man of sense and character, mark you that, sir!—‘As to my own concern with any report of such a nature, I distinctly affirm that I never made any statement to the effect that your son had borrowed money on any property that might accrue to him on Mr. Featherstone’s demise’—bless my heart! ‘property’—accrue—demise! Lawyer Standish is nothing to him. He couldn’t speak finer if he wanted to borrow. Well,” Mr. Featherstone here looked over his spectacles at Fred, while he handed back the letter to him with a contemptuous gesture, “you don’t suppose I believe a thing because Bulstrode writes it out fine, eh?”
Fred colored. “You wished to have the letter, sir. I should think it very likely that Mr. Bulstrode’s denial is as good as the authority which told you what he denies.”
“Every bit. I never said I believed either one or the other. And now what d’you expect?” said Mr. Featherstone, curtly, keeping on his spectacles, but withdrawing his hands under his wraps.
“I expect nothing, sir.”
Fred with difficulty restrained himself from venting his irritation.
“I came to bring you the letter. If you like I will bid you good morning.”
“Not yet, not yet. Ring the bell; I want missy to come.”
It was a servant who came in answer to the bell.
“Tell missy to come!” said Mr. Featherstone, impatiently. “What business had she to go away?”
He spoke in the same tone when Mary came.
“Why couldn’t you sit still here till I told you to go? I want my waistcoat now. I told you always to put it on the bed.”