John's had been bought by
Larry Twentyman's grandfather. For a time there had been some
bitterness of feeling; but the Twentymans had been well-to-do
respectable people, most anxious to be good neighbours, and had
gradually made themselves liked by the owner of Bragton. The
present Squire had of course known nothing of Chowton as a part of
the Morton property, and had no more desire for it than for any of
Lord Rufford's acres which were contiguous to his own. He shook
hands cordially with his neighbour, as though this visit were the
most natural thing in the world, and asked some questions about
Goarly and the hunt.
"I believe that'll all come square, Mr. Morton. I'm not interesting
myself much about it now." Larry was not dressed like himself. He
had on a dark brown coat, and dark pantaloons and a chimney-pot
hat. He was conspicuous generally for light-coloured close-fitting
garments and for a billycock hat. He was very unlike his usual self
on the present occasion.
"I thought you were just the man who did interest himself about
those things."
"Well; yes; once it was so, Mr. Morton. What I've got to say now,
Mr. Morton, is this. Chowton Farm is in the market! But I wouldn't
say a word to any one about it till you had had the offer."
"You going to sell Chowton!"
"Yes, Mr. Morton, I am.
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