"You thee that ith why," said Jennie hastily, "and, oh Jack, I do want you to talk to him, juth ath you talked to me. Tell him evwything. He ith tho helpful and tho underthanding."
She swayed from one foot to another and glanced from the boy to the man, undecided.
"Jennie, dear," said Mr. Tuptale with surgical ease, "I think ahem—suppose you let us talk this over together. It would be easier, wouldn't it?"
"Oh yeth, indeed!"
The next moment they were alone.
"And now my boy," said Mr. Tuptale blandly. "Come, sit down. Let's have it out like man to man."
Skippy did not at once comply. He walked slowly around the red plush rocker and then back to the bamboo fire-screen and rested his elbows lightly upon it and glowered at the all-unconscious curate, murder in his heart.
"Jennie is very fond of you, Jack," said Mr. Tuptale, caging his fingers. "She has a warm and sympathetic nature, a big heart, and I can quite understand how deeply concerned she is in the brave fight you are making. I want you to accept me as a friend, a real friend. I know men and I know what temptations are, early associations, acquired habits. Jack, my boy, there is nothing really wrong in you. I saw that the moment you came into the room."
"Who said there was—pray?" said Skippy, whose hands were trembling with rage.
Mr. Tuptale looked up quickly, frowned and said: