Buxton had engaged
an agent. "It's a confounded shabby trick if he has, after what he said to
me long ago. I cannot tell you how much I depend on your complying with my
request. Once more, _write directly_. If Nancy cannot take the letter to
the post, run down to Combehurst with it yourself. I must have an answer
to-morrow, and every particular as to who--when to be appointed, &c. But I
can't believe the report to be true."
Maggie asked Frank if she might name what he had told her the day before to
her brother. He said:
"Oh, yes, certainly, if he cares to know. Of course, you will not say
anything about my own opinion of Mr. Henry. He is coming to-morrow, and I
shall be able to judge how far I am right."
CHAPTER VII.
The next day Mr. Henry came. He was a quiet, stern-looking man, of
considerable intelligence and refinement, and so much taste for music as to
charm Erminia, who had rather dreaded his visit. But all the amenities of
life were put aside when he entered Mr. Buxton's sanctum--his "office," as
he called the room where he received his tenants and business people. Frank
thought Mr. Henry was scarce commonly civil in the open evidence of his
surprise and contempt for the habits, of which the disorderly books and
ledgers were but too visible signs. Mr. Buxton himself felt more like a
school-boy, bringing up an imperfect lesson, than he had ever done since he
was thirteen.
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