“Yes; I should have ridden over to tell you about it, only I was so busy.  You know I told you I had quite given up arguing the matter with him—­I thought it was hopeless—­but yesterday morning he asked me to come in here to him before I went out, and astonished me by saying that he had decided on all the new arrangements he should make in consequence of old Satchell being obliged to lay by work, and that he intended to employ Adam in superintending the woods at a salary of a guinea a-week, and the use of a pony to be kept here.  I believe the secret of it is, he saw from the first it would be a profitable plan, but he had some particular dislike of Adam to get over—­and besides, the fact that I propose a thing is generally a reason with him for rejecting it.  There’s the most curious contradiction in my grandfather:  I know he means to leave me all the money he has saved, and he is likely enough to have cut off poor Aunt Lydia, who has been a slave to him all her life, with only five hundred a-year, for the sake of giving me all the more; and yet I sometimes think he positively hates me because I’m his heir.  I believe if I were to break my neck, he would feel it the greatest misfortune that could befall him, and yet it seems a pleasure to him to make my life a series of petty annoyances.”

“Ah, my boy, it is not only woman’s love that is [two greek words omitted] as old AEschylus calls it.  There’s plenty of ‘unloving love’ in the world of a masculine kind.  But tell me about Adam.  Has he accepted the post?  I don’t see that it can be much more profitable than his present work, though, to be sure, it will leave him a good deal of time on his own hands.

“Well, I felt some doubt about it when I spoke to him and he seemed to hesitate at first.  His objection was that he thought he should not be able to satisfy my grandfather.  But I begged him as a personal favour to me not to let any reason prevent him from accepting the place, if he really liked the employment and would not be giving up anything that was more profitable to him.  And he assured me he should like it of all things—­it would be a great step forward for him in business, and it would enable him to do what he had long wished to do, to give up working for Burge.  He says he shall have plenty of time to superintend a little business of his own, which he and Seth will carry on, and will perhaps be able to enlarge by degrees.  So he has agreed at last, and I have arranged that he shall dine with the large tenants to-day; and I mean to announce the appointment to them, and ask them to drink Adam’s health.  It’s a little drama I’ve got up in honour of my friend Adam.  He’s a fine fellow, and I like the opportunity of letting people know that I think so.”

“A drama in which friend Arthur piques himself on having a pretty part to play,” said Mr. Irwine, smiling.  But when he saw Arthur colour, he went on relentingly, “My part, you know, is always that of the old fogy who sees nothing to admire in the young folks.  I don’t like to admit that I’m proud of my pupil when he does graceful things.  But I must play the amiable old gentleman for once, and second your toast in honour of Adam.  Has your grandfather yielded on the other point too, and agreed to have a respectable man as steward?”