“I know you do,” said Mrs Shingle, tightening her lips and giving her head a shake, which plainly said—“I’ll die before I’ll give in.”
“Let me have one word in, mother, if it’s only edgewise,” cried Dick.
“There, go on—I know what you are about to say.”
“No, you don’t, mother; so don’t aggravate. I say it’s Fred.”
“I know you do.”
“For this reason. He’s forbid the house, and I won’t have it; for I hear nothing but what’s bad spoken of him. I won’t have him here. He ain’t worthy of her. So he can’t come, and she, poor girl, frets about it; and if she don’t get better I shall have to give in. Now, you say it’s Tom.”
“Yes,” said Mrs Shingle, nodding her head.
“Well, then, why don’t he come? or why don’t she send for him and make it right? Can’t you see that if it were as you say, all would be right directly?”
Mrs Shingle shook her head.
“That’s right; be obstinate, mother, when you know there’s nothing to prevent his coming.”