There was a seat close by; it faced the river. Leslie sat down on it just as if somebody had shot her. She did not speak for some time. Had she done so, she must have burst out with the truth. In her immense effort for self-control, for repression of her feelings, she even thought that she was going to faint.
“You ran in debt, child; the temptations here were too much for you. You ran in debt for fal-lals and gew-gaws, and all the other sort of things which please pretty girls; you thought, of course, the old man would pay up. Well, the old man has paid up. I am sorry. You might have asked me for the money in the first place, and not gone into debt for it; but that is the way with modern girls. We will say no more about it. I see you did not want to pain me.”
Mr. Parker patted her on the arm. Leslie shrank away from him.
“Don’t,” she said. “I cannot bear you to touch me just now.”
“You cannot bear me to touch you! Well, that’s nice hearing when I’m spending my money on you and thinking such a lot of you, and remembering the straight honorable sort of man your father was.”
“But do you, knowing my father as you did, feeling for him as you still do—do you really believe this of me?” said Leslie.
“Believe it of you? How can I help it, child? But if there is any way out of, any way to lessen the kind of shock I got yesterday, I will bless you, Leslie Gilroy, to the longest day I live.”
Leslie again felt as if she had got a dash of cold water. She could clear herself, but at what a cost!
“Tell me exactly what occurred before I say anything more,” she said in a low, tremulous voice.
“Oh, that’s all easy enough,” said Mr. Parker. “It was Annie Colchester who came to me. I have known her brother for a year or two. Rupert is about as bad a lot as I have ever met. The girl is different; clever, with a lot of enthusiasm and blind worship for that good-for-nothing brother of hers. I helped Rupert, took him into my own office; but afterwards I had to give him the sack. I could not keep that sort about me, you understand.”