Chapter Thirty Five.
Sister and Brother—Vulgar.
“Oh, Bill!”
Then an interval of panting and wiping her perspiring face and then again—
“Oh, Bill!”
Then a burst of piteous sobbing, for poor little Miss Burge was crying as if her heart would break.
“Let it go, Betsey. Don’t try to stop it, dear. Let it go,” said Mr William Forth Burge in the most sympathising of tones; and his sister did let it go, crying vehemently for a time, while he waited patiently to know what was the matter.
“That’s better, my dear,” he said, kissing her. “Now then, tell us what’s the matter.”
“Oh, Bill! I’ve been down the town, and I almost ran back to tell you the news.”
“And you haven’t told it to me yet,” he said, smiling affectionately at the troubled little woman, under the impression that he was doing the right thing to comfort her.