That young man
presented himself one Sunday shortly after his father had become
settled in the new home, but practically he was a stranger. John and
he had no interests in common; there even existed a slight antipathy
on the father's part of late years. Strangely enough this feeling
expressed itself one day in the form of a rebuke to Bob for
neglecting Pennyloaf--Pennyloaf, whom John had always declined to
recognise.
'I hear no good of your goin's on,' remarked Hewett, on a casual
encounter in the street. 'A married man ought to give up the kind of
company as you keep.'
'I do no harm,' replied Bob bluntly. 'Has my wife been complaining
to you?'
'I've nothing to do with her; it's what I'm told.'
'By Kirkwood, I suppose? You'd better not have made up with him
again, if he's only making mischief.'
'No, I didn't mean Kirkwood.'
And John went his way. Odd thing, was it not, that this embittered
leveller should himself practise the very intolerance which he
reviled in people of the upper world. For his refusal to recognise
Pennyloaf he had absolutely no grounds, save--I use the words
advisedly--an aristocratic prejudice.
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