“Yes! he would have told me if he had.”
William gave a snort of incredulity, and hinted that probably Mr. Meadows himself was at the bottom of the scandal.
Now Meadows' artful conduct had fortified Susan against such a suspicion, and, being by nature a warm-hearted friend, she fired up for him, as she would have for Mr. Eden, or even for poor Will in his absence. She did it, too, in the most womanish way. She did not tell the young man that she had consulted Mr. Meadows, and that he had constantly discredited the report, and set her against believing it. Had she done this, she would have staggered the simple-minded Will; but no; she said to herself, “He has attacked a good friend of mine, I won't satisfy him so far as to give him reasons;” so she merely snubbed him.
“Oh, I know you are set against poor Mr. Meadows; he is a good friend of ours, of my father, and me, and of George, too.”
“I wish you may not have to alter your mind,” sneered Will.
“I will not without a reason.”
“I will give you a reason; do you remember that day—”
“When you insulted him in his own house, and me into the bargain, Will?”
“Not you, Susan, leastways I hope not, but him I did, and am just as like to do it again; well, when you were gone, I took a thought, and I said, appearances deceive the wisest; I may be mistaken—”
“He! he!”