"Your brother knows nothing about it, Edmund Burton. He would get up a miserable cheap muddle, and disgrace the family. Don't let him have anything to do with it. Jane!"—calling to the servant—"bring me my pocket-book from the right-hand corner of my top bureau drawer."
Jane brought it.
"How much will it take for a good muddle, Edmund Burton?" said his Aunt Mercy, as she opened her pocket-book.
"I should think fifteen dollars ought to be a great plenty," said Ned, and she handed him a crisp new ten-dollar bill and a five.
"Thank you, Aunty."
"You're welcome, child. Always come to me when you want money to make a muddle. But mind what I tell you, Edmund Burton. Don't let that numskull brother of yours have anything to do with it, and be sure you get up a handsome muddle that will do credit to the family."
"Yes, Aunty. Good-night!"
"Good-night! But come and kiss me before you go, Edmund Burton."
"Don't you think," said Ned, as we were walking home, "before Fay goes any further with this invention, and spends money on it, he'd better talk with somebody who knows more about such things than we do?"
I didn't quite know whether Ned said this because he was really anxious about the fate of the invention, or because he did not like to part with the money, now that he actually had it. Some people are always ready to say that they would lend money to a friend, if they had it; but when they feel it in their hands, they are not in such a hurry to let it go out. However, I thought this was a good idea, whatever might be Ned's reason for suggesting it; so I said, "Certainly, he ought! Who do you think would be the best person for him to talk with?"