Mrs. Vint rated him soundly for keeping all this secret so long.
He whom they called Thomas Leicester remonstrated with him. "Had you told me in time," said he, "I had not paid forfeit for 'The Vine,' but settled there, and given you a home."
Mercy said never a word but "Poor father!"
As the peril drew nearer, the conversation became more animated and agitated, and soon the old people took to complaining of Thomas Leicester to his wife.
"Thou hast married a gentleman; and he hath not the heart to lift a hand to save thy folk from ruin."
"Say not so," pleaded Mercy: "to be sure he hath the heart, but not the means. 'Twas but yestreen he bade me sell his jewels for you. But, mother, I think they belonged to some one he loved; and she died. So, poor thing, how could I? Then, if you love me, blame me, and not him."
"Jewels, quotha! will they stop such a gap as ours?" was the contemptuous reply.
From complaining of him behind his back, the old people soon came to launching innuendoes obliquely at him. Here is one specimen out of a dozen.
"Wife, if our Mercy had wedded one of her own sort, mayhap he'd have helped us a bit."
"Ay, poor soul; and she so near her time: if the bailiffs come down on us next month 'tis my belief we shall lose her as well as house and home."