“Go on,” said Mary. “Listen, Mr. Naylor,” she added with a squeeze of the old man’s arm.
“You’re like a couple of naughty children!” he said, with an affectionate look and laugh.
“Well, my prophecy is that they’ll swear the poor dear old man’s estate at under five thousand.”
“Well, why shouldn’t—” old Naylor began; but he stopped as he saw Mary’s eyes meet Beaumaroy’s in a rapture of quick and delighted understanding.
“And then perhaps you’ll own to being sorry, Doctor Mary!”
“So that’s what you were up to, was it?” said Mary.
CHAPTER XVIII. — THE GOLD AND THE TREASURE
Old Mr. Naylor called on Mary two or three days later—at an hour when, as he well knew, Cynthia was at his own house—in order to hear the story. There were parts of it which she could not describe fully for lack of knowledge—the enterprise of Mike and Big Neddy, for example; but all that she knew she told frankly, and did not scruple to invoke her imagination to paint Beaumaroy’s position, with its difficulties, demands, obligations—and temptations. He heard her with close attention, evidently amused, and watching her animated face with a keen and watchful pleasure.