restoration of Cloom and its owner to the old position of gentry had
never occurred to them. It was true that it would mean the elevation of
this intruding child, who was merely the son of their Annie, whom they
all knew, but at the same time it meant certain obligations towards
them. It meant more money, help in times of stress, security. That was
a thing worth considering. The old Squire had hoarded his income and let
his fortune swell; if the all-powerful Parson were going to bring this
child up in the way he suggested it meant that money would be spent, and
on them....

The Parson gave his idea time enough to arrive, though not long enough
to be turned over. He pushed Ishmael gently forward again.

"Say what I told you," he bade him, "and no more."

At that moment something came to Ishmael which had failed him in that
evening's ordeal--a poise, a confidence of touch which was his by
inheritance, though so long unsummoned. He straightened himself and
thrust his hands into the pockets of his little breeches.

"Thank you very much for having come to-night," he said, in a voice free
from any twang of dialect--the voice he fell into naturally after a day
alone with the Parson: "I'm very glad you could come. I hope I'll often
see you and that we'll all be very happy together...." He paused, could
think of nothing more to say, so retreated back in sudden shyness
against the Parson's arm.

There was another moment of hush. Archelaus was sitting, his face suffused,
staring in front of him; a murmuring of "the pretty lil' dear" ... ran
amongst the women. It was Lenine who brought the moment to its fit rounding.