"The long and short of it is, Joe, that this young feller can ruin us, rob us of our hard-earned reputations. We must square him."
"Money? He wants money and Posy!"
Tomlin stroked his chin pensively. It occurred to him that so sharp a practitioner as James Miggott would never come to grief. As a suitor for one of his three daughters, he would not consider him too rashly as ineligible.
"Posy might do worse," he muttered.
"Ho! That's it. Sidin' with them? Thought you might!"
"Face the music, Joe! We're hanged, high as Haman, unless the ladies come to the rescue. It's a bit thick his threatenin' you. How does Posy take that—um?"
"How can I tell her what he's threatening to do? James knows that, the dog!"
"You can hint at unpleasantness. Posy ought to know that her young man is buckin' about ruining you."
"Maybe you'd like to talk to Susan and Posy?"
"I should. I understand women; you don't."