“Why, as to—as to a mere matter of money,” stammered Herbert, obviously endeavoring to make his voice ring angrily, “that can have no effect upon a person of honor.”
“Not a trifle like sixty thousand pounds, mark you,” said the old Tory to Dana. “They hold themselves high, these patriots.” And once more addressing himself to Herbert, he continued: “Do you recall that some days ago I asked you to change the color of your coat?”
“I do,” replied the young lieutenant.
“It was a week, I think, that I gave you.”
“It was.”
“Very good. There are a couple of days yet to go. So consider the matter well. Change your coat, or I change my will.”
George felt the table shake; the big man had twitched spasmodically, and his knees had knocked against its legs. Young Prentiss flashed him a searching look; but in no other way did the bully manifest interest.
“Your money is your own to do what you please with,” said Herbert Camp to his uncle, but for all his effort, there was a certain waver in his voice and tones. “And you would not have me sink my principle to get it, I know.”
“To be sure not, nephew,” said the old gentleman. “But be assured of this: My money will never go to any one who upholds the rebel cause. I would not buy your allegiance, nor that of any other person; but the facts are as I have stated them.”
The nephew drummed upon the edge of the table with his finger-tips. Things were at this stage when a waiter approached, bearing the burly man’s dinner; this he placed before him with care, then shook him gently.