The Ballawhaine rubbed the side of his nose with his lean forefinger, and said, “Near is my shirt, but nearer is my skin.”
Auntie Nan fixed her timid eyes upon him, and they grew brave in their gathering indignation. “His father is dead, and he is poor and friendless,” she said.
“We've had differences on that subject before, mistress,” he answered.
“And yet you begrudge him the little that would start him in life.”
“My own has earlier claim, ma'am.”
“Saving your presence, sir, let me tell you that every penny of the money you are spending on Ross would have been Philip's this day if things had gone different.”
The Ballawhaine bit his lip. “Must I, for my sins, be compelled to put an end to this interview?”
He rose to go to the door. Philip rose also.
“Do you mean it?” said Auntie Nan. “Would you dare to turn me out of the house?”
“Come, Auntie, what's the use?” said Philip.