“Yes, yes, of course,” said Dick, who shuddered and looked horrified at the thought of having to go away; “but you’d make time for that. You could go halves, Max, and manage for me; and the business is growing fast—and you’d see, even if I got worse, that Jessie and mother here always had enough.”
“I cannot bear this any longer!” cried Mrs Shingle; while Jessie stood aghast.
“It’s all right, mother—it’s all right, mother. Max is a good fellow. When he used to row me it was to do me good. And you’ll take all in hand, won’t you, Max?”
“Dick, you shall not make any such arrangements,” cried Mrs Shingle. “Will no one take our side?”
“I will, aunt,” cried Tom fiercely; “for I will never stand by and see such a blackguardly wrong committed. Jessie,” he cried, “you have treated me badly, and behaved with cruel treachery to the man who loved you very dearly; but that’s all past now—and while I’ve hand to lift or voice to raise, I’ll never see you or yours wronged by father—or brother,” he added, fiercely turning on Fred, while Jessie uttered a sigh of relief, and buried her face on her mother’s shoulder.
“Tom,” whispered Max, catching him by the shoulder, “if you are not silent, I’ll strike you down.”
“Look here, if you dare to touch me,” roared Tom, “I shall forget that you are my poor weak mother’s husband. I will not stand by and see my uncle wronged. If he is unfit to attend to his affairs, aunt, see some trustworthy lawyer; but you shall not be, imposed upon like this.”
“Fred, stop him,” cried Max furiously. “Turn him out of the room. He’s as mad as his uncle.”
Fred hesitated for a moment, and then, stepping forward, he caught Tom by the arm.
“Here, come out!” he cried.