"What that cat said, insulting of my pretty. But I shoved her out of the door, tellin' her what she were. She guv me and Bart and my own sunbeam notice to quit," gasped Deborah, almost weeping, "an' quit we will this very day, Bart bein' a-packin' at this momingt. 'Ear 'im knocking, and I wish he wos a-knockin' at Mrs. Krill's 'ead, that I do, the flauntin' hussy as she is, drat her."
"I'll go up and see Sylvia. No, Deborah, don't you come for a few minutes. When you do come we'll arrange what is to be done."
Deborah nodded acquiescence. "Take my lovely flower in your arms, sir," she said, following him to the foot of the stairs, "and tell her as your 'eart is true, which true I knowed it would be."
Beecot was soon in the sitting-room and found Sylvia on the sofa, her face buried in her hands. She looked up when she recognized the beloved footsteps and sprang to her feet. The next moment she was sobbing her heart out on Paul's faithful breast, and he was comforting her with all the endearing names he could think of.
"My own, my sweet, my dearest darling," whispered Paul, smoothing the pretty brown hair, "don't weep. You have lost much, but you have me."
"Dear," she wept, "do you think it is true?"
"I am afraid it is, Sylvia. However, I know a young lawyer, who is a friend of mine, and I'll speak to him."
"But Paul, though my mother may not have been married to my father—"
"She was, Sylvia, but Mrs. Krill was married to him earlier. Your father committed bigamy, and you, poor child, have to pay the penalty."
"Well, even if the marriage is wrong, the money was left to us."