Betty suddenly understood that she was the subject of the interview, and silence fell upon her. She drew herself up quietly and awaited the blow.
“Miss Betty, this good lady says that your father was a quite impossible person. She says that he was a notorious drunkard. Was he?”
Betty bowed her head.
“Yes,” she said simply.
The hope went out of the man’s eyes; he tried again, trusting to a denial:
“She says that he was the subject of a coroner’s inquest, and that his disreputable life was the talk of the town a while ago. Was that so?”
Betty said nothing.
“She says that he was a Papist—that you came into my house and breathed no word of it. Is that so?”
Still no answer.
“She says that your companionship may sully the innocence of my girls; which is a damned lie—excuse my saying so.... But she says that people are making comments about my girls being seen with you.... I wish to God that were a lie too.”