"And of course you had the election. What fun!
And what a victory for you, Mr. Stocks! I hear you beat the greatest
landowner in the district."
Mr. Stocks smiled and glanced at Alice. The girl flushed; she could
not help it; and she hated Mr. Stocks for his look.
Her father spoke for the first time. "What is the young man like, Mr.
Stocks? I hear he is very proud and foolish, the sort of over-educated
type which the world has no use for."
"I like him," said Mr. Stocks dishonestly. "He fought like a
gentleman."
"These people are so rarely gentlemen," said Mrs. Andrews, proud of her
high attitude. "I suppose his father made his money in coal and bought
the land from some poor dear old aristocrat. It is so sad to think of
it. And that sort of person is always over-educated, for you see they
have not the spirit of the old families and they bury themselves in
books." Mrs. Andrews's father had kept a crockery shop, but his
daughter had buried the memory.
Mr. Wishart frowned. The lady had been asked down for her husband's
sake, and he did not approve of this chatter about family. Mr. Stocks,
who was about to explain the Haystoun pedigree, caught his host's eye
and left the dangerous subject untouched.
"You said in your letters that they had been kind to you at this young
man's place. We must ask him down here to dinner, Alice.
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