"
"But he went away, and left him bleeding and speechless."
"He'd knocked his _weni, widi, wici_ out of him, I guess! I think, Mr.
Prosper, you should forgive him." Mr. Prosper had thought so too, but
had hardly known how to express himself after his second burst of anger.
But he was at the present ill and weak, and was anxious to have some one
near to him who should be more like a silk purse than his butler,
Matthew. "Suppose you was to send for him, sir."
"He wouldn't come."
"Let him alone for coming! They tell me, sir--"
"Who tells you?"
"Why, sir, the servants now at the rectory. Of course, sir, where two
families is so near connected, the servants are just as near: it's no
more than natural. They tell me now that since you were so kind about
the allowance, their talk of you is all changed." Then the squire's
anger was heated hot again. Their talk had all been against him till he
had opened his hand in regard to the allowance. And now when there was
something again to be got they could be civil. There was none of that
love of him for himself for which an old man is always hankering,--for
which the sick man breaks his heart,--but which the old and sick find it
so difficult to get from the young and healthy.
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