Kenneth said this with strong feeling, and the seaman looked at him more earnestly than he had yet done.
“Your father was hard on your sister and her husband, if I bean’t misinformed,” said Gaff.
“He thought it his duty to be so,” answered Kenneth.
“And you agreed with him?” pursued Gaff.
“No, never!” cried the other indignantly. “I regretted deeply the course my father saw fit to pursue. I sympathised very strongly with my dear sister and poor Tom Graham.”
“Did you?” said Gaff.
“Most truly I did.”
“Hum. You spoke of suspicions—wot was your suspicions?”
“To be candid with you, then,” said Kenneth, “when I came to see you I suspected that it was you who left that child at our house, for I heard of your sudden re-appearance in Cove, but I am convinced now that I was wrong, for I know you would not tell me a falsehood, Gaff.”
“No more I would, sir,” said Gaff, drawing himself up, “and no more I did; but let me tell to you, sir, nevertheless, that your suspicions is c’rect. I left Emmie Wilson at your house, and Emmie Wilson is Emma Graham!”