Abel blew his nose as if to command his emotion, and looked at Mr. Dinks.
“Mr. Newt, I should prefer to drop the subject. I can not afford to give my son a larger allowance. I doubt if he ever gets a cent from Mr. Burt, who is not his grandfather, but only the uncle of my wife. Possibly Mrs. Dinks may receive something. I repeat that I presume my son understands what he is about. If he has done a foolish thing, I am sorry. I hope he has not. Let us drink to the prosperity of the romantic young pair, Sir.”
“With all my heart,” said Abel.
He was satisfied. He had come to the dinner that he might discover, in the freedom of soul which follows a feast, what Alfred Dinks’s prospects really were, and what his father would do for him. Boniface Newt, upon coming to the store after the tête-à-tête with his wife, had told Abel of his sister’s marriage. Abel had comforted his parent by the representation of the probable Burt inheritance. But the father was skeptical. Therefore, when General Arcularius Belch requested the pleasure of Mr. Abel Newt’s company at dinner, to meet the Honorable B. Jawley Ele—an invitation which was dictated by General Belch’s desire to stand well with Boniface Newt, who contributed generously to the expenses of the party—the father and son both perceived the opportunity of discovering what they wished.
“Mr. and Mrs. Alfred Dinks will have six hundred a year, as long as papa Dinks chooses to pay it,” said Abel to his father the day after the dinner.
Mr. Newt clenched his teeth and struck his fist upon the table.
“Not a cent shall they have from me!” cried he. “What the devil does a girl mean, by this kind of thing?”
Abel was not discomposed. He did not clench his teeth or strike his fist.
“I tell you what they can do, father,” said he.
His father looked at him inquiringly.