“You seem to know more about Reginald than most people, my dear,” said her mother significantly.
To the surprise of the mother and brother, Jemima replied to this insinuation by bursting into tears and walking out of the room.
“Did you ever see the like of that? She always takes on if any one mentions that boy’s name; and she’s old enough to be his aunt, too!”
“The sooner she cures herself of that craze the better,” said Sam, pouring himself out some more tea. “She don’t know quite so much about him as I do!”
“Why, what do you know about ’im, then?” inquired Mrs Shuckleford, in tones of curiosity.
“Never you mind; we don’t talk business out of the office. All I can tell you is, he’s a bad lot.”
“Poor Mrs Cruden! no wonder she takes on. What an infliction a wicked son is to a mother, Sam!”
“That’ll do,” said the dutiful Sam. “What do you know about it? I tell you what, ma, you’re thick enough with Number 6. You’d better draw off a bit.”
“Oh, Sam, why so?”
“Because I give you the tip, that’s all. The old lady may not be in it, but I don’t fancy the connection.”