"This is madness, mother."
"It would be madness not to accept it; and I will not let the sun go down again before I close the business, if Mr. Checkynshaw is still of the same mind."
"Will you give up a hundred thousand dollars for ten thousand?" groaned Fitz. "We can live in Beacon Street, and ride in our carriage, if you will only take my advice."
"I shall be more likely to ride in the Black Maria over to the almshouse, if I take your advice. My mind is made up, Fitz," replied his mother, very decidedly.
"I will go with you, mother," said Fitz, desperately.
"You needn't."
"I must be a witness of the transaction, for, in my opinion, it will be a swindle on the part of Checkynshaw; and if I can pick him up on it I mean to do so."
"Fitz, if you are impudent to Mr. Checkynshaw, he will put you out of his office."
"I will not be impudent to him unless he is impudent to me."
Mrs. Wittleworth led the way now, and Fitz reluctantly followed her. He was in despair. He actually believed his mother was selling out her inheritance, a princely fortune, for a mere song; that she was sacrificing the brightest hopes a person ever had. Indeed, he went a point beyond this, and believed she was selling out his hopes and expectations; that she was wronging him out of a brilliant future. But Fitz might have comforted himself with the reflection that he had vigorously opposed the sacrifice, and that it had been made on account of no want of judgment and forethought on his part.