"He's been a good father to you, George, and I like you for speaking up for him. He's an awful old rascal, my boy, but you'll be a worse if you live."
"Now stop that, Madge! I want your help, old girl."
"Ay, and you'll get it, my pretty boy. Bend over the fire, and whisper in my ear, lad."
"Madge, old girl," he whispered, "I've wrote the old man's name where I oughtn't to have done."
"What, again!" she answered. "Three times! For God's sake, George, mind what you're at! Why, you must be mad! What's this last?"
"Why, the five hundred. I only did it twice."
"You mustn't do it again, George. He likes you best of anything next his money, and sometimes I think he wouldn't spare you if he knew he'd been robbed. You might make yourself safe for any storm if you liked."
"How?"
"Marry that little doll Thornton, and get her money."
"Well," said George, "I am pushing that on. The old man won't come round, and I want her to go off with me; but she can't get up her courage yet."