"He has disagreed with papa about the brewery business," said Martha.
"It's more than that, Martha, as you know very well," continued Mrs. Tappitt, still speaking in her great heat. "He has shown himself bad in every way,—giving himself airs all over the town, and then going away without paying his debts."
"I don't think we know that, mamma."
"Everybody says so. Your own father heard Sam Griggs say with his own ears that there was a shop bill left there of I don't know how long. But that's nothing to us. He came here under false pretences, and now he's been turned out, and we don't want to have any more to do with him. But, Mrs. Cornbury, I am sorry about that poor foolish girl."
"I didn't think her poor or foolish at all," said Mrs. Cornbury, who had quite heart enough to forget the vote her husband wanted in her warmth for her young friend.
"I must say, then, I did;—I thought her very foolish, and I didn't at all like the way she went on in my house and before my girls. And as for him, he doesn't think of her any more than he thinks of me. In the first place, he's engaged to another girl."
"We are not quite sure that he's engaged, mamma," said Martha.
"I don't know what you call being sure, my dear. I can't say I've ever heard it sworn to, on oath. But his sister Mary told your sister Augusta that he was. I think that's pretty good evidence. But, Mrs. Cornbury, he's one of those that will be engaged to twenty, if he can find twenty foolish enough to listen to him. And for her, who never was at a dance before, to go on with him like that;—I must say that I thought it disgraceful!"
"Well, Mrs. Tappitt," said Mrs. Cornbury, speaking with much authority in her voice, "I can only say that I didn't see it. She was under my charge, and if it was as you say I must be very much to blame,—very much indeed."
"I'm sure I didn't mean that," said Mrs. Tappitt, frightened.