The conversation suddenly grew louder. The hollow voice of the inventor, and the deep bass of Marcus Wilkeson, could be heard alternating quickly. These words reached little Pet:
THE INVENTOR. "We have had along conversation, Mr. Wilkeson, and I will end it by saying that it is best for us to separate, now and forever."
MARCUS (bitterly). "As you please, sir; but it is hard that a man's reputation should be at the mercy of any scoundrel who knows how to write a libel, and has not courage enough to acknowledge it."
THE INVENTOR (pettishly). "I have told you a dozen times, that I despise anonymous letter writers. They are ever liars and cowards."
MARCUS. "But you respected this one enough to adopt his suggestions."
THE INVENTOR. "So the magistrate uses hints that may be furnished him by professional thieves, for the detection of crime. But he, none the less, loathes those who would inform upon their comrades."
MARCUS. "You believe, therefore, only what you have seen or heard for yourself."
THE INVENTOR. "Nothing further, I assure you. In all matters of proof, it is my nature to be suspicious."
MARCUS. "But none of these accusations against me have been proved."
THE INVENTOR. "Why protract this painful conversation? It is sufficient for me to say that we must part.--(Excitedly.) Good heavens, sir! am I not the guardian of my daughter, and warranted in accepting or rejecting acquaintances for her? Must I make long explanations to everybody that I don't see fit to admit into my house and my daughter's society? Is not this a free country, sir?"