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by the slack and feeble mouth。 His person showed marks of
habitual neglect； his dress was slovenly； and yet there was
something in the presence of the old Squire distinguishable from
that of the ordinary farmers in the parish； who were perhaps every
whit as refined as he； but； having slouched their way through life
with a consciousness of being in the vicinity of their “betters”；
wanted that self…possession and authoritativeness of voice and
carriage which belonged to a man who thought of superiors as
remote existences with whom he had personally little more to do
than with America or the stars。 The Squire had been used to
parish homage all his life； used to the presupposition that his
family； his tankards； and everything that was his； were the oldest
and best； and as he never associated with any gentry higher than
himself； his opinion was not disturbed by comparison。
He glanced at his son as he entered the room； and said； “What；
sir！ haven’t you had your breakfast yet？” but there was no
pleasant morning greeting between them； not because of any
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unfriendliness； but because the sweet flower of courtesy is not a
growth of such homes as the Red House。
“Yes； sir；” said Godfrey； “I’ve had my breakfast； but I was
waiting to speak to you。”
“Ah！ well；” said the Squire； throwing himself indifferently into
his chair； and speaking in a ponderous coughing fashion； which
was felt in Raveloe to be a sort of privilege of his rank； while he cut
a piece of beef； and held it up before the deerhound that had come
in with him。 “Ring the bell for my ale； will you？ You youngsters’
business is your own pleasure； mostly。 There’s no hurry about it
for anybody but yourselves。”
The Squire’s life was quite as idle as his sons’； but it was a
fiction kept up by himself and his contemporaries in Raveloe that
youth was exclusively the period of folly； and that their aged
wisdom was constantly in a state of endurance mitigated by
sarcasm。 Godfrey waited； before he spoke again； until the ale had
been brought and the door closed—an interval during which Fleet；
the deerhound； had consumed enough bits of beef to make a poor
man’s holiday dinner。
“There’s been a cursed piece of ill…luck with Wildfire；” he
began； “happened the day before yesterday。”
“What！ broke his knees？” said the Squire； after taking a
draught of ale。 “I thought you knew how to ride better than that；
sir。 I never threw a horse down in my life。 If I had； I might ha’
whistled for another； for my father wasn’t quite so ready to
unstring as some other fathers I know of。 But they must turn over
a new leaf—they must。 What with mortgages and arrears； I’m as
short o’ cash as a roadside pauper。 And that fool Kimble says the
newspaper’s talking about peace。 Why； the country wouldn’t have
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a leg to stand on。 Prices ’ud run down like a jack； and I should
never get my arrears； not if I sold all the fellows up。 And there’s
that damned Fowler； I won’t put up with him any longer； I’ve told
Winthrop to go to Cox this very day。 The lying scoundrel told me
he’d be sure to pay me a hundred last month。 He takes advantage
because he’s on that outlying farm； and thinks I shall forget him。”
The Squire had delivered this speech in a coughing and
interrupted manner； but with no pause long enough for Godfrey to
make it a pretext for taking up the word again。 He felt that his
father meant to ward off any request for money on the ground of
the misfortune with Wildfire； and that the emphasis he had thus
been led to lay on his shortness of cash and his arrears was likely
to produce an attitude of mind the utmost unfavourable for his
own disclosure。 But he must go on； now he had begun。
“It’s worse than breaking the horse’s knees—he’s been staked
and killed；” he said； as soon as his father was silent； and had
begun to cut his meat。 “But I wasn’t thinking of asking you to buy
me another horse； I was only thinking I’d lost the means of paying
you with the price of Wildfire； as I’d meant to do。 Dunsey took him
to the hunt to sell him for me the other day； and after he’d made a
bargain for a hundred and twenty with Bryce； he went after the
hounds； and took some fool’s leap or other that did for the horse at
once。 If it hadn’t been for that； I should have paid you a hundred
pounds this morning。”
The Squire had laid down his knife and fork； and was staring at
his son in amazement； not being sufficiently quick of brain to form
a probable guess as to what could have caused so strange an
inversion of the paternal and filial relations as this proposition of
his son to pay him a hundred pounds。
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“The truth is； sir—I’m very sorry—I was quite to blame；” said
Godfrey。 “Fowler did pay that hundred pounds。 He paid it to me；
when I was over there one day last month。 And Dunsey bothered
me for the money； and I let him have it； because I hoped I should
be able to pay it you before this。”
The Squire was purple with anger before his son had done
speaking； and found utterance difficult。 “You let Dunsey have it；
sir？ And how long have you been so thick with Dunsey that you
must collogue with him to embezzle my money？ Are you turning
out a scamp？ I tell you I won’t have it。 I’ll turn the whole pack of
you out of the house together； and marry again。 I’d have you to
remember； sir； my property’s got no entail on it； since my
grandfather’s time the Casses can do as they like with their land。
Remember that； sir。 Let Dunsey have the money！ Why sh