“I don’t know.”
“Here’s another pretty kettle o’ fish for thee. Who d’ye think’s the bitter weed in our being turned out? Did our party tell ’ee?”
“No. Why, Pa’son Maybold, I suppose.”
“Shiner,—because he’s in love with thy young woman, and d’want to see her young figure sitting up at that queer instrument, and her young fingers rum-strumming upon the keys.”
A sharp ado of sweet and bitter was going on in Dick during this communication from his father. “Shiner’s a fool!—no, that’s not it; I don’t believe any such thing, father. Why, Shiner would never take a bold step like that, unless she’d been a little made up to, and had taken it kindly. Pooh!”
“Who’s to say she didn’t?”
“I do.”
“The more fool you.”
“Why, father of me?”
“Has she ever done more to thee?”