“You said the other day that they were going back into the country.”
“Yes, and I shall be obliged to go too.”
Magnus smiled.
“Well, yes, of course,” said Artingale, quickly, “I want to be near Cynthy. There, I’m not ashamed; I am very fond of the little girl. I must be, or I should never stand those brothers of hers.”
“Anything fresh about them?” said Magnus, who seemed deeply interested in the conversation.
“Fresh? Yes—no—only the old game. Being so near down there, my people hear everything at Gatley, and though I don’t encourage tattling, I can’t help hearing a lot about my beautiful brothers-in-law, and yours too if you like.”
“Don’t be foolish. Go on.”
“Well, ’pon my soul, Mag, they’re a pair of scamps, and once I’ve got my little Cynthy, hang me if I don’t cut them. They haven’t the decency to wait till I am their brother, but are always borrowing money. Sort of blackmail for letting me court their sister,” he added, bitterly. “’Pon my word, Mag, it would be a charity to get Julia away as well.”
“It is a great pity,” said Magnus, thoughtfully. “What an anxiety to the poor sick mother!”
“Who is quite an angel of goodness in her way, Mag, only too ready to look over those two fellows’ faults. Bah! I haven’t patience with them.”