“So am I,” said Joe, quietly; “but you’re so proud.”
“I tell you, man, that I met them this evening together in the wood,” cried Mrs Glaire. “My son, with Daisy, your child, in his arms.”
“Ah, you did, did you, Missus?” said Joe, chuckling. “He was kissing of her, I suppose.”
“Yes,” exclaimed Mrs Glaire, indignantly.
“Well, I thought as much,” said Joe, quietly. “The lass had got a rare red face when I met her as she come in.”
“Do you hear what I say?” cried Mrs Glaire angrily. “I say I saw them to-night in the wood, after he had promised me to give her up.”
“Oh, yes,” said Joe, in a calm, unruffled way, “I heard you say so, and if you’d been in the wood every day for the past month, I’d bet you’d ha’ sin ’em. They’re often theer.”
“Joe Banks!” cried Mrs Glaire, half rising from her chair.
“Theer, theer, Missus, what’s the good o’ making a fuss, and being so proud? I’ve give my Daisy a good eddication, and she’s quite a scholard. She can write as pretty a letter as any one need wish to see, and keeps accounts beautiful.”
“Joe Banks, you are blind,” cried Mrs Glaire, passionately. “I want to save your child from shame, and you—”