"Some what? And who?"
"Money, of course! That feller Pell, I mean. He's rich, an' if he knowed that you and his wife was old friends—I betcher he'd lend you some." He paused, breathless, for he had run his sentences into one. Gilbert glared at him, as if he thought he had gone stark mad. But Uncle Henry was not afraid. "You won't ask him?" he inquired.
"Certainly not. What are you raving about, anyhow? Cut out this sort of talk, Uncle. You're getting on my nerves."
The old man simply switched his chair about. He had heard Gilbert in an angry mood before, and he knew that nothing would follow his little burst of wrath. "Oh, you make me tired, you young people," he raged. "I'd ask him if it was me, you can bet I would!"
"You would," was all that Gilbert replied. Sarcasm was in his voice.
"First you won't marry Hardy's daughter and now you won't ask him for money," Uncle Henry pursued the subject.
Gilbert was genuinely angry now. "Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your plans."
"Yes, but if you ain't goin' to do nothing, I am!"
His nephew wouldn't trust himself to hear another word. He turned on his heel and left the old man.