"Well, she had better stay at home, that's certain. That fellow is a rogue, if ever there was one!"
Mrs. Harrison was silent for a moment; then she said quietly, "I have no reason to love him, for he helped to drive my boy out of the house."
"No doubt he did; and—I hardly like to say what I think—but I believe he made a plot about that money-box."
"Oh! I have often thought so, and put away the thought as wrong and wicked."
"We'll speak plain English for once," George Paterson said. "That man means to marry your sister, and get hold of all she possesses."
"Oh, George! Amelia is close on fifty, and Mr. Skinner can't be much over thirty."
"That does not matter; the same thing is done every day. Don't we see great folks setting the example, and ladies of any age marrying young fellows who want their money? You may depend upon it, Skinner has this in his little sly eye. Well, I shan't do him any good by abusing him, nor myself neither; so I'll have done."
"Not a word from Jack," Mrs. Harrison sighed out—"not a word."
"If he is off on a long voyage, as he may be, I never thought you would have a word. You must wait till Christmas for news."
"Till Christmas! Ah! those were his father's last words—'I'll be back by Christmas;' and how many Christmases have come and gone since that day, and never a word—never a sign."