"I suppose it is."
"Where is John? How does he bear it?"
"Why, as well as you could expect. He blames himself for not putting the money in the savings-bank; but I tell him there is no use in that now. He has gone over to see Mr. De Witt, who feels much worse than we do."
"So he ought!" exclaimed Agnes. "If I were you, I would never speak to him again."
"Oh, Agnes!"
"Indeed I would not; nor his wife either. I always knew that no good could come of your intimacy with such low, vulgar people. He has gained such an influence over John that he can wind him round his finger; and he has just drawn him into a trap,—that is all. It is just what you might expect from a psalm-singing man like him."
"Agnes, stop!" said Letty, with emphasis. "Mr. and Mrs. De Witt are among the kindest friends we have; and I will not hear them spoken of in that way. Mr. De Witt made a mistake by which he has lost fully as much as my husband, if not more. What possible object could he have in such a course as you impute to him? What could he gain by it?"
"None so blind as those that won't see!" said Agnes, significantly. "I don't believe his losses will hurt him much. We have all heard of decoy-ducks."
"Let me advise you not to repeat any such remarks," said Letty. "You do not know any harm of the De Witts; and you would look rather silly if they should call for your proof in court, some day."
"Dear me! What did I say?" returned Agnes, rather alarmed. "You do make such a fuss about nothing! However, scold away, if it does you any good. I suppose you are afraid to give it to your husband, and so you take it out on me. I am used to it: that is one thing. I have never in my life tried to sympathize with and console any one, without meeting ingratitude in return."