"My father thought——."
"You must speak up if you expect me to hear, young lady," growled Ebenezer. "Your father was improvident."
"A noble and generous man," replied the doctor, hotly.
"No doubt you think so. He lined your pockets, I believe."
Dr. Marsh could stand this no longer. He rose, pale with fury, but Father Healy gently pushed him back into his seat.
"Don't be paying attention to the old man," he said.
The two older men glared at one another across the table; the doctor growled out "Miser," Ebenezer muttered "Quack." But, fortunately, Desmond O'Connor entered the room at that moment, and distracted the attention of the company.
"Well, Desmond," cried Ebenezer Brown, "I need an office-boy; how would you like the billet?"
Desmond paused in the door, his face flushing crimson. He was 18, and to be termed an office-boy sounded like an insult. Father Healy, noting his shame and anger, went to the boy and placed a hand kindly on his shoulder.
"Take the rungs one by one if you would be at the top, Desmond," he said.