Kate winced.
“I say,” pursued Jan, “have you heard about him and Jackson’s ‘Tee-dum’? The landlord went to him civil-like, and invited him to join the choir. He bragged about his violin as if he could play finer than anyone hereabouts. But when the landlord told him our chaps could play Jackson’s ‘Tee-dum,’ he ran away. I reckon Jackson’s ‘Tee-dum’ is a piece to find out the corners of a man. He daren’t face it. Kitty, if you won’t come with me to the fair, I swear I’ll offer the odd seat to Rose Ash.”
Then he left the house.
Kate attempted to fly, for she knew what was coming, but was arrested by her aunt, who grasped her by the shoulders.
“You little fool!” she said. “Don’t you see what may come of this if you manage well, or let me manage for you? Jan Tottle came here every day to inquire when you were ill, and now you let him slip between your fingers and into the hands of that designing Rose. He is a ball that has come to you, and you toss it to her. Don’t think she is fool enough to toss him back to you. When she has him she will close her fingers on him. What is going to become of you, I’d like to know, that you should act like this? Do not reckon on anything your father will bring you; or on your uncle either. One is helping the other down the road to ruin, and we may all be nearer the poorhouse than you imagine.”
She let go her hand, for Bramber came in, and asked what he had to pay.
“Sixpence,” answered Zerah, “and what you like to the little maid. I reckon she’ll take a ha’penny.”
Kate’s head fell, covered with shame, and she thrust her hands behind her back.
Walter paid Mrs. Pepperill, and said, without looking at Kate, “The little maid and I understand each other, and the account between us is settled.”
“Now look here,” said Zerah, allowing her niece to escape, and laying hold of the young man, “I want a word with you, Mr. Schoolmaster. My husband has let you go through his accounts. I reckon he’d got that muddled himself, he didn’t know his way out, and thought you’d have led him, as well as Jack-o’-lantern leads out of a bog. The light is good enough, but when the mire is there, what can the light do but show it? It can’t dry it up. If it weren’t for the cockles and coffee as I get a few sixpences by, I reckon we’d have been stogged (mired) long ago. But Pasco, he has the idea that he’s a man of business and can manage a thousand affairs, and as ill-luck will have it, that brother o’ mine feeds his fancies wi’ fresh meat. Now I want you to tell me exactly what you found in his books.”