“No,” he said; “I must go. It’s too late now; but another time you just mind, for you’ve got plenty of money for that I say, Betsey: I’ve got it, my dear—it’s her mother!”
“What’s her mother, Bill dear?”
“Spent the money, and she’s took the blame,” he cried triumphantly.
“Oh! I am glad, Bill. But oh, how clever you are, dear! How did you find it out?”
“It’s just knowing a thing or two; that’s all, Betsey. I’ve had jobs like this in connection with business before now. But I must be off.”
“But won’t you take me with you, Bill?”
He hesitated for a moment or two, and then said—
“Well, you may as well come, Betsey; but mind what you’re about, and don’t get making an offer, for fear of giving offence.”
“Would it give offence, Bill?”
“Yes, if you didn’t mind your p’s and q’s. You hold your tongue, and leave everything to me; but if I give you a hint, you’re to take Miss Thorne aside and make her an offer.”