“Always did. Surprised you more if Margaret had had five hundred pounds to invest, eh?”
“Then the loss will fall upon you, uncle,” said Louise sympathetically, as she took the old man’s hand.
“Yes, my dear. But better have the loss fall upon median Crampton’s heavy ebony ruler, eh, Harry?”
The young man looked once more in the searching malicious eyes, and nodded.
“Bad job though, Louy. I’d left poor Harry that money in my will.”
“Oh, uncle!” cried Louise, holding his hand to her cheek.
“Yes; but not a penny for you, pussy. There, it don’t matter. I shan’t miss the money. If I run short, George, you’ll give me a crust, same as you do Margaret.”
“My dear Luke, I’ve told you a hundred times, I should be glad if you would give up that—that—”
“Dog kennel?” sneered the old cynic.
“That hut on the cliff, and come and share my home.”