"One of them mock funerals!"
"Just so."
"Then you're going to show up a bit of secret sin as you've found out—is that it?"
"If it is?"
Mrs. Weekes was much concerned.
"For my son to meddle in such work as that!" she gasped.
"'Tis fun, I tell you. Damn it all, be I to live my dreary days without never a joke or a laugh to make life better worth? If you knowed a half or a quarter of the dull dog's life I lead now and the hardships I've had of late, you'd be only too glad for me to amuse myself sometimes."
"Don't think to fool me," she said. "You ban't the sort of man—no better than a savage monkey—who'd do a thing like this for fun. You've got your reasons. You be going to strike an enemy."
"Leave it at that, then, since you're so clever."
"Will he leave it at that? I should judge what you be wanting just now are friends, Jar, not enemies. You are going to hurt a man in a terrible tender place. And if you can't make good this charge—what then?"