“You must forgive all that now. He knew no better; and as for the workmen, you know how easily they are influenced one way or the other.”
“Oh, yes, I know them. And now this woman’s here begging.”
“No, papa, dear.”
“I say she is. I could see it in her servile, shivering way, as soon as she caught my eye; now, look here, Claude, I shan’t give her a shilling.”
Claude held his hand to her cheek in silence.
“I won’t pay for the man’s funeral. I’m obliged to pay the doctor, because I contracted for him to attend the ungrateful hounds; but I will not help her in the least, and I’ll have no more of your wretched tricks. I’m always finding out that you are helping the people and letting them think it is my doing. Now, then, I’ve done, and I want to be at peace, so go and send that woman away, or I shall be ill.”
Claude clung a little more closely to her father, nestling, as it were, in his breast.
“Well,” he said testily, “why don’t you go?”
“My father is the leading man in this neighbourhood,” said Claude, in a soft, soothing tone, “and the people don’t know the goodness of his heart as I do.”
“Now, Claudie, I won’t have it. You are beginning to preach at me, and give me a dose of morals. My heart has grown as hard as granite.”