"Because everyone's against him," cried Mrs. Rebson, wrathfully. "Oh, that Jerce man--I'll Jerce him if he dares to speak against Master Ferdy, who is an angel."
"There are two kinds of angels, Nanny, white and black."
"Master Ferdy's the kind of angel that plays a harp," said the old dame, with dignity, "and why shouldn't the poor boy amuse himself?"
"He'll get into trouble unless he's more careful. Drinking and gambling and sitting up all night with fast people."
"I don't believe a word of it," said Mrs. Rebson, energetically.
"Dr. Jerce says--"
"He's a liar, Miss, and don't come to me with tales of that angel. Why can't you hold your tongue, and think of your future with Mr. Ackworth, who is so fond of you and I hope you'll deserve his fondness."
"I'm fond of Ferdy, too, Nanny, and I want him to grow up to be a good man."
"He is a good man," said the old nurse, obstinately, "and there's no more growing of that sort needed. Mr. Horran, drat him, keeps the poor boy short of money."
"Two hundred a year--"