“Thou wouldst have him a scarlet and yellow popinjay!” said Rachel.
“I would not have him mean, Orige,” replied Sir Thomas significantly.
“Well, Sir,—all said, we come to this,” resumed Jack in his airy manner. “If these bills must needs be paid—and so seem you to say—how shall it be? Must I essay for the monopoly?—or for a wardship?—or for an heir?—or shall I rather trust to my luck at the dice?”
“Buy aught but a living woman!” said Rachel, with much disgust.
“The woman is nought, Aunt. ’Tis her fortune.”
“Very good. I reckon she will say, ‘The man is naught.’ And she’ll speak truth.”
Rachel was playing, as many did in her day, on the similarity of sound between “nought,” nothing, and “naught,” good-for-nothing.
“Like enough,” said Jack placidly.
“I will spare thee what money I can, Jack,” said his father sighing. “But I do thee to wit that ’twill not pay thy debt—no, or the half thereof. For the rest, I must leave thee to find thine own means: but, Jack!—let them be such means that an honest man and true need not be ’shamed thereof.”
“Oh!—of course, sir,” said Jack lightly.