"I should very much like to know what particular sin I have committed
that I should have been plagued all my life with a stupid, garrulous old
woman for a wife, who cannot be left an hour without putting her foot in
it some way or another."
"Ah, you did not say so to me once, James," sighed Mrs Wilton.
"No, a good many hundred times. It's really horrible."
"But James--"
"There, do hold your tongue--if you can, woman. First you get inviting
that young ruffian of John Garstang's to stay when he comes down."
"But, my dear, it was Claud. You know how friendly those two always
have been."
"Yes, to my sorrow; but you coaxed him to stay."
"Really, my dear, I could not help it without being rude."
"Then why weren't you rude? Do you want him here, fooling about that
girl till she thinks he loves her and marries him?"
"Oh, no, dear, it would be horrid. But you don't think--"
"Yes, I do, fortunately," snapped Wilton. "Why don't you think?"
"I do try to, my dear."
"Bah! Try! Then you want to bring in those locusts of Morrisons. It's
bad enough to know that the money goes there if Kate dies, without
having them hanging about and wanting her to go."
"I'm very, very sorry, James. I wish I was as clever as you."
"So do I. Then, as soon as you are checked in that, you dodge round and
invite that Doctor, who's a deuced sight too good-looking, to come
again, and ask him to bring his sister."
"But, my dear, it will do Kate so much good, and she really seems very
nice."
"Nice, indeed! I wish you were. I believe you are half mad."
"Really, James, you are too bad, but I won't resent it, for I want to go
up to Kate; but if someone here is mad, it is not I."
"Yes, it is. Like a weak fool I spoke plainly to you about my plans."
"If you had always done so we should have been better off and not had to
worry about getting John Garstang's advice, with his advances and
interests, and mortgages and foreclosures."
"You talk about what you don't understand, woman," said Wilton, sharply.
"Can't you see that it is to our interest to keep the poor girl here?
Do you want to toss her amongst a flock of vulture-like relatives, who
will devour her?"
"Why, of course not, dear."
"But you tried to."
"I'm sure I didn't. You said she was so ill you were afraid she'd die
and slip through our fingers."
"Yes, and all her money go to the Morrisons."
"Oh, yes, I forgot that. But I gave in directly about not having them
here; and what harm could it do if Miss Leigh came? I'm sure it would
do poor Kate a lot of good."
"And Claud, too, I suppose."
"Claud?"
"Ugh! You stupid old woman! Isn't she young and pretty? And artful,
too, I'll be bound; poor Doctor's young sisters always are."
"Are they, dear?"
"Of course they are; and before she'd been here five minutes she'd be
making eyes at that boy, and you know he's just like gunpowder."
"James, dear, you shouldn't."
"I was just as bad at his age--worse perhaps;" and Mr James Wilton, the
stern, sage Squire of Northwood Manor, J.P., chairman of the Quarter
Sessions, and several local institutions connected with the morals of
the poor, chuckled softly, and very nearly laughed.
"James, dear, I'm surprised at you."
"Humph! Well, boys will be boys. You know what he is."
"But do you really think--"
"Yes, I do really think, and I wish you would too. Kate does not take
to our boy half so well as I should like to see, and nothing must occur
to set her against him. It would be madness."
"Well, it would be very disappointing if she married anyone else."
"Disappointing? It would be ruin. So be careful."
"Oh, yes, dear, I will indeed. I have tried to talk to her a little
about what a dear good boy Claud is, and--why, Claud, dear, how long
have you been standing there?"
"Just come. Time to hear you say what a dear good boy I am. Won't
father believe it?"