The baronet was momently growing prouder of his son. He had never had a feeling like it before. He saw his mother in him.
“She's looking at me straight out of his eyes!” he said to himself.
“Ain't you going to sit down?” he said to him at last, forgetting that he had neither shaken hands with him, nor spoken a word of welcome.
Richard moved a chair a little nearer and sat down, wondering what would come next.
“Well, what are you going to do?” asked his father.
“I must first know your wish, sir,” he answered.
“Church won't do?”
“No, sir.”
“Glad to hear it! You're much too good for the church!—No offence, Mr. Wingfold! The same applies to yourself.”
“So my uncle on the stock-exchange used to say!” answered Wingfold, laughing, as he turned to the baronet. “He thought me good enough, I suppose, for a priest of Mammon!”