"Listen to your mother, boy!" he said. "She talks sense."
"Mother," said Grit quietly, "will you be kind enough to go up-stairs for five minutes? I will deal with these men."
"I will go if you think it best, Grit; but do be cautious. I am sure Mr. Travers will see the impropriety of his remaining here against my wishes."
"I may see it in a few days," said Travers insolently. "Don't trouble yourself, ma'am. The law is on my side, and I am the guest of my friend Brandon. Isn't that so, Brandon?"
"To be sure, Travers," said Brandon, in a drowsy tone.
"Mr. Brandon's friends are not welcome here," said Grit, "nor is he himself welcome."
"That's an unkind thing for your own boy to say," said Brandon, in a tone which he tried to make pathetic. "Because I've been unfortunate, my own family turn against me."
"If you had behaved decently, Mr. Brandon, we would have tolerated your presence," said Grit; "but during the short time you have been here, you have annoyed and robbed my mother and myself, and spent the money you stole at the tavern. We have had enough of you!"