But the Squire did not seem to be listening to his answer, or if he heard it, it blended itself with other thoughts. He said with something that seemed like a painful effort, "Pitt had a notion that Anthony Miles liked Winifred. There never was anything of the kind, but he took it into his head. I'm glad with all my heart that Pitt was mistaken, for I would not have one of my girls suffer in that way for a thousand pounds. But I've been thinking to-day,--I don't know what sets all these things running in my head, unless it is that it is my wedding-day.--My wedding-day, seven-and-twenty years ago, and little Harry was born the year after. I wasn't as good a husband as I should have been, I know, Mannering, but I used to think, if little Harry had lived--" He stopped. He had been speaking throughout in a slow disjointed way, so unlike himself that Mr Robert felt uncomfortable while hardly knowing why. "Come," he said cheerily. "Look at your two girls, and remember what you have just been saying about them." The Squire shook his head. "They're well enough," he said, "but they're not Harry. Who was I talking of--Anthony Miles, wasn't it? I've been thinking that perhaps I've been too hard on the boy. It would have broken his father's heart if he had known it, for there wasn't a more honourable man breathing; but if my Harry had grown up, though he never could have done such a thing as that, he might have got into scrapes, and then if I had been dead and gone it would have been hard for never a one to stick by the lad. I don't know how it is. I believe I've such a hasty tongue I never could keep back what comes uppermost. Many a box in the ear my poor mother has given me for it, though she always said all the same, `Have it out, and have done with it, Frank.' It was a low thing for him to do, sir," went on the Squire, firing up, and striking the ground with his stick by way of emphasis, "but--I don't know--I should be glad to shake hands with him again. Somehow I feel as if it couldn't be right as it is, with his father gone, and my little lad who might have grown up." And so, across long years there came the clasp of baby fingers, and the echo of a message which was given to us for a Child's sake,--peace and good-will. "I wish you would," Mr Mannering said heartily. "He is somewhere about in the town at this very minute; perhaps you'll meet him. Only you mustn't mind--" He hesitated, for he did not feel sure of Anthony's manner of accepting a reconciliation, or whether, indeed, he would accept it at all, and yet he did not like to throw difficulties in the way. But the Squire understood him with unusual quickness. "You mean the lad's a bit cranky," he said, "but that's to be expected. Perhaps he and I may fire up a little, for, as I said, I'm never sure of myself, but there's his father between us, and--well, I think we shall shake hands this time."