“I think you had better go on with your work, Wimble, which you do understand, and not meddle with things that are beyond you.”
“Certainly, sir, certainly,” said Jem, quickly. “Just going, sir;” and giving Don a sympathetic look, he hurried out, but had hardly closed the door before he opened it again.
“Beg pardon, sir, Mrs Lavington, sir, and Miss Kitty.”
Don started from his stool, crimson with mortification. His mother! What would Uncle Josiah say?
Jem Wimble gave Don another look full of condolence before he closed the door, leaving Mrs Lavington and her niece in the office.
Mrs Lavington’s face was full of anxiety and care, as she glanced from her son to her brother and back again, while Kitty’s was as full of indignant reproof as she darted an angry look at Don, and then frowned and looked straight down at the floor.
“Well?” said the old merchant, coldly, “why have you come? You know I do not like you to bring Kitty here to the business place.”
“I—I heard—” faltered Mrs Lavington, who stood in great awe of her brother when he was in one of his stern moods.
“Heard? Well, what did you hear?”
“Such terrible news, Josiah.”