“I don’t see why it shouldn’t do,” said Mrs Shingle, tossing her head. “They’re both young and nice-looking.”
“Bah! will that fill their insides?”
“And they’re getting very fond of each other.”
“More shame for you to let ’em,” said the old man composedly. And his eyes twinkled with malicious glee as he saw the little woman begin to grow ruffled, like a mother hen, and the colour come into her wattles and comb.
“And pray why?” said Mrs Shingle loudly.
“Don’t shout,” said the old fellow. “Why, indeed! What will Max say when he knows of it?”
“Ah!” sighed Mrs Shingle, “what indeed!”
“He’ll boil over in his confounded sanctified way, and kick Tom out of the house without a shilling of his mother’s money.”
“Oh, dear, dear, dear,” said Mrs Shingle, letting her work fall into her lap and wringing her hands; “that’s what I’ve been thinking, and I’ve tried all I could to stop it; but the more I try, the fonder they get of one another.”
“Of course they do. That’s their way—the young fools!” snarled the visitor; “and if you let ’em alone, Jessie will marry the young noodle, fill his house full of children, and make him a poor man all his life.”