“Beast! By that noise what do you mean?”
“I’ll tell ye, by-and-by. Come, you mustn’t be cross, it wastes time.”
“More time than we know what to do with in this house,” she sneered.
“Well, that’s true for some, I’ll not deny; but there’s some as is pretty well worked I hear—eh?—and so long as we baint, we may endure the leisure, for as bad as that is, business here, I’m told, is a deal worse,” and Harry laughed.
“Pleasant was my Harry always,” again sneered the lady.
“And ye heard of poor Charlie, of course?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. Every one is not like you. I did hear. I don’t thank you,” she answered, tartly, and turned her pale, malignant face toward him.
“But, dear girl, I could not. There was difficulties, eyes a-watchin’ on all hands, and ears cocked, and I knew you could not be long without knowing. So you heard; but mayhap you haven’t heard this—there’s a child born o’ that marriage.”
“Marriage!” and with an oath the big Dutchwoman burst into a discordant laugh.
For a moment Harry was alarmed, but the laugh was not hysterical—purely emotional, and an escape for pent-up scorn and fury.