“Yes, father.”
“I met Fred Fraser yesterday.”
She started round, and looked at him with dilated eyes.
“And Tom Fraser, his brother, the day before.”
Her face flushed, and an angry look darted from her eyes as he spoke, but she turned away.
“It must be Fred,” he muttered. “I don’t like it,” he continued; “I never did see such things as gals—girls. If she wants such and such a fellow, why don’t she say so? and if money’ll get him, why, he’s hers; but I’m not going to see her die before my eyes. I’d sooner she married a scamp—if she loves him. But he don’t have the playing with any money I may give her. Now, if Max would only make the first advances, we might be friendly again. I can afford to be, and I will; but I don’t like to make the first step. Jessie, my girl, if—I say if—if I was to become friends with your uncle again—”
“Friends with Uncle Max?” cried Jessie, starting.
“I’ve been thinking of it, you know; and I was going to say he did give you—us, I mean—the rough side of his tongue once.”
“That’s—that’s all forgotten now, father,” faltered Jessie softly.
“You forgive him, my gal, for what he said to you?”