“That’s better,” he said, as his child resumed her seat, “but you make me angry when you are so foolish, my dear. You don’t know the value of money and position. Position is a great thing, Rhoda, though you don’t appreciate it. You don’t understand what it is for a man to have been twice mayor of the borough, even if it is small.”
“Oh, yes, I do, papa; and it is very nice to be able to help others,” said Rhoda, sadly.
“Yes, yes, of course, my dear; but you give away too much. I would rather see you fonder of dress and jewellery. People should help themselves.”
“But some are so unfortunate, papa, and—”
“They blame me for it, of course. Now, once for all, Rhoda, you must not listen to this idle chatter. They come to me and borrow money on their boats, or nets, or fish, or their expectations. I tell them, and Mr Tregenna, who draws up the agreements, fully explains to them, the terms upon which they have the money, which they need not take unless they like, and then when they fail to pay, the boat or fish, or whatever it may be, has to be sold. I never took advantage of any of them in my life. On the contrary,” he continued, assuming an ill-used, martyred air, “I have been a great benefactor to the place, and the good opinion of the people is really important to a man in my position.”
Rhoda looked across at him with rather a piteous face as he went on.
“They would often be unable to make a start if it were not for me; and I always charge them a very moderate rate of interest. You must not do it; Rhoda; you must not indeed. I thought you a girl of too strong sense to listen to all this wretched calumny. You mix too much with the people, and are too ready to believe ill of me.”
“Oh, no, no, papa!” cried the girl, with tears in her eyes, and she rose once more to go to his side, but he motioned her away.
“There, there: that will do, my dear,” he said, forcing a laugh. “You spoil my breakfast. Give me one of those fried soles. There, of course, half cold with our talking. Dear me, dear me, what a lot of grit and sand we foolish people do throw into our daily life.”
He smiled across the table, and poor Rhoda smiled back; then her eyes dropped, and she saw her face so grotesquely reproduced in the highly-polished silver coffee-pot that she felt ready to burst into a hysterical fit of laughing; which she checked, however, as her father chatted on, and read scraps from his other letters, talking pleasantly and well, as his handsome face brightened, and the sun that shone in upon the silver and china upon the fine white damask gave a sparkle to his short, crisp grey hair, though, at the same time, it made plain the powder upon his cleanly-shaven face.