She was half-laughing, half-crying, by the time he paused for breath.
“Oh, Sam, you know I’d never allow you to do any of those things for my sake, but I’ll never forget your goodness. You mustn’t do anything, or I’ll wish I hadn’t told you. But I do want you to advise me what to do.”
“I never liked John Corrie,” he cried, “nor did any soul in Dunford; but I never doubted he was a straight man. But dinna ye be afraid for the five-pun’ note business—dinna ye be afraid for that!”
“But that’s what I am afraid of! I might escape from Mr. Symington by simply going away, but not from—”
“Your uncle would never dare to—”
“Dare? After what he’s done, what would he not dare? And he’s clever in his way. How did he get that five-pound note into my drawer?”
Sam’s hand went to his mouth. A sound not unlike a chuckle became the beginning of a fit of coughing. When it had passed he said—
“We’ll maybe find that out yet, so dinna let it bother ye too much, Miss. But if he tries to frighten ye, let me know, and I’ll deal wi’ him—by gravy, I’ll deal wi’ him!”
“Sam, you must be careful. What if he got you into trouble, and you lost your—”
“I can take care o’ myself,” said Sam, “except, maybe at the boxing—and I didna get fair play from that scoundrel.” He laughed ruefully.