“And she shall have ’em, dad, hot and strong. A hundred and fifty thou—!”
“Would clear off every lien on the property, my boy, and it would be a grand thing for my poor deceased brother’s child.”
“You do think so, don’t, you, my dear?” said Mrs Wilton, mentally extending a tendril, to cling to her husband, “because I—”
“Decidedly, decidedly, my dear,” said the Squire, quickly. “Thank you, Claud, my boy,” he continued. “I shall rely upon your strong common sense and judgment.”
“All right, guv’nor. You give me my head. I’ll make it all right. I’ll win the stakes with hands down.”
“I do trust you, my boy; but you must be gentle, and not too hasty.”
“I know,” said the young man with a cunning look. “You leave me alone.”
“Hah! That’s right, then,” said the Squire, drawing a deep breath as he smiled at his son; but all the same his eyes did not look the confidence expressed by his words.