There was another exchange of looks between Sidney and Mrs. Hewett; then the latter with hesitation and timidity told of Mrs. Tubbs’s visit to her that evening, and of the proposals the woman had made.
‘I won’t hear of it:’ cried John. ‘I won’t have my girl go for a barmaid, so there’s an end of it. I tell you she shan’t go!’
‘I can understand you, Mr. Hewett,’ said Sidney, in a tone of argument softened by deference; ‘but don’t you think you’d better make a few inquiries, at all events? You see, it isn’t exactly a barmaid’s place. I mean to say, Mrs. Tubbs doesn’t keep a public-house where people stand about drinking all day. It is only a luncheon-bar, and respectable enough.’
John turned and regarded him with astonishment.
‘Why, I thought you was as much set against it as me? What’s made you come round like this? I s’pose you’ve got tired of her, an’ that’s made you so you don’t care.’
The young man’s eyes flashed angrily, but before he could make a rejoinder Mrs. Hewett interposed.
‘For shame o’ yourself, John. If you can’t talk better sense than that, don’t talk at all. He don’t mean it, Sidney. He’s half drove off his head with trouble.’
‘If he does think it,’ said Kirkwood, speaking sternly but with self-command, ‘let him say what he likes. He can’t say worse than I should deserve.’
There was an instant of silence. Hewett’s head hung with more than the usual doggedness. Then he addressed Sidney, sullenly, but in a tone which admitted his error.
‘What have you got to say? Never mind me. I’m only the girl’s father, an’ there’s not much heed paid to fathers nowadays. What have you got to say about Clara? If you’ve changed your mind about her goin’ there, just tell me why.’