On the same evening Bella Crestwick felt impelled to lecture her brother after dinner. That was not a favorable time, for the young man’s good opinion of himself was generally strengthened by a glass or two of wine.
“I thought that matter of the shares would have taught you sense, but you must listen to Batley again this afternoon,” she scolded. “You were with him for half an hour. I’ve no patience with you, Jim.”
“He’s not so easy to shake off, particularly as I’m in his debt,” returned the lad. “Besides, he’s an interesting fellow, the kind you learn a good deal from. It’s an education to mix with such men.”
“The trouble is that it’s expensive. Come away with me before he ruins you. There’s Mrs. Barnard’s invitation to their place in Scotland; it would be a good excuse.”
Her brother’s rather lofty manner changed.
“You’re a dear, Bella. You know you don’t want to go.”
Having a strong reason for wishing to stay, she colored at this. Among his other unprepossessing characteristics, Jim had a trick of saying things he should suppress.
“Never mind me,” she answered. “Will you come?”
He had an incomplete recognition of the magnitude of the sacrifice she was ready to make, though it was not this that decided him not to fall in with it.
“No,” he said with raw self-confidence. “I’m not one to run away; but I’ll promise to keep my eye on the fellow after this and be cautious. All his schemes aren’t in the same class as those mining shares, you know.”