"Well then, Margaret, look here. I want to know something about your brother's affairs. From what I have heard, I fear they were not very good."
"They were very bad, aunt,—very bad indeed."
"Dear, dear; you don't say so. Sir John always feared that it would be so when Thomas Mackenzie mixed himself up with those Rubbs. And there has gone half of Jonathan Ball's money,—money which Sir John made! Well, well!"
Miss Mackenzie had nothing to say to this; and as she had nothing to say to it she sat silent, making no attempt at any words.
"It does seem hard; don't it, my dear?"
"It wouldn't make any difference to anybody now—to my uncle, I mean, or to John, if the money was not gone."
"That's quite true; quite true; only it does seem to be a pity. However, that half of Jonathan's money which you have got, is not lost, and there's some comfort in that."
Miss Mackenzie was not called upon to make any answer to this; for although she had lost a large sum of money by lending it to her brother, nevertheless she was still possessed of a larger sum of money than that which her brother Walter had received from Jonathan Ball.
"And what are they going to do, my dear—the children, I mean, and the widow? I suppose there'll be something for them out of the business?"
"I don't think there'll be anything, aunt. As far as I can understand there will be nothing certain. They may probably get a hundred and twenty-five pounds a-year." This she named, as being the interest of the money she had lent—or given.