“Never make promises.”
“Then there’s a pretty life for me! I did it for that poor dear boy. You were only up to one of your jokes—I see that. Confound you, Old Tom, you’ve been making a fool of me.”
The flattering charge was not rejected by Old Tom, who now had his brother to laugh at as well. Andrew affected to be indignant and desperate.
“If you’d had a heart, Tom, you’d have saved the poor fellow without any bother at all. What do you think? When I told him of our smash—ha! ha! it isn’t such a bad joke—well, I went to him, hanging my head, and he offered to arrange our affairs—that is—”
“Damned meddlesome young dog!” cried Old Tom, quite in a rage.
“There—you’re up in a twinkling,” said Andrew. “Don’t you see he believed it, you stupid Old Tom? Lord! to hear him say how sorry he was, and to see how glad he looked at the chance of serving us!”
“Serving us!” Tom sneered.
“Ha!” went Andrew. “Yes. There. You’re a deuced deal prouder than fifty peers. You’re an upside-down old despot!”
No sharper retort rising to Old Tom’s lips, he permitted his brother’s abuse of him to pass, declaring that bandying words was not his business, he not being a Parliament man.
“How about the Major, Nan? He coming down, too?”