He had hardly recovered from this shock when a messenger boy came with a note, addressed in a woman’s writing.
“Now for it,” he said, and breaking the seal read:
“‘Jack dear: Your horrid note doesn’t say anything, nor explain anything. Come this afternoon and tell what it means to
Mabel.’”
“Here’s a go,” exclaimed Jack, but he looked pleased in a sort of sneaking way. “What do you think of it, Mr. Graham?”
“I don’t like it.”
“Think they intend to cut up?” he asked.
“Like a sausage machine; and yet I don’t see how they can stand for you after that letter.”
“Well, shall I go?”
“Yes, in fact I suppose you must go; but Jack, be a man. Tell ’em plain and straight that you don’t love ’em as you should to marry ’em; say you saw your old girl a few days ago and found you loved her still, or something from the same trough, and stick to it. Take what you deserve. If they hold you up to the bull-ring, the only thing you can do is to propose to take the whole bunch to Utah, and let ’em share and share alike. That’ll settle it. Be firm.”