“Well, there, I’ll be honest about it—I did.”
“I didn’t need telling,” said Aunt Sophia. “I believe, Saxby, I could even tell you what you are thinking now.”
“Oh nonsense, ma’am—nonsense!”
“Oh yes, I could,” said Aunt Sophia sharply. “You were thinking that I was a wretched old griffin, and you wished I was dead.”
“Wrong!” cried Saxby triumphantly, and speaking more like himself. “I’ll own to the griffin; but hang me if I will to the wishing you dead!”
“Why, you know you think she’ll have my money, Saxby.”
“Hang your money, ma’am!” cried the stockbroker sharply. “I’ve got plenty of my own, and can make more; and as to yours—why, if it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t have a penny. It would be all gone in some swindling company. I—I beg your pardon, Miss Raleigh; I—ah—really—ah—I’m afraid I rather forgot myself—I—”
“You’re quite right, Saxby, quite right,” said Aunt Sophia quietly. “I’m afraid I am a very stupid, sanguine old woman over money matters, and you have saved me several times. But now about Naomi. Whatever is it you want?”
“What do I want?” said Saxby.
“Yes. Why do you come hanging about here like this? Do you want to marry the girl?”