He entered the office to find Baldwin asleep again, and without saying a word to the men who turned away their heads significantly when he glanced in their direction he went downstairs and sought Keturah.
“Is Nancy about?” he asked.
“Nay, she’s one of her bad girds on, and is lying down,” she replied.
“Mr. Briggs hasn’t been down to his dinner, I suppose?” he inquired more mildly than was his wont.
“What we’re all coming to I don’t know,” she replied, ignoring the direct question; “but I see naught before us but t’ poor-house”; and she threw her apron over her head and gave way to tears.
Inman had never treated her less roughly. “Keturah,” he said, “put your apron down and listen to me. I’m not one to shove my worries on to other folks, and particularly on to women, but I’m in the devil of a hole, and you’re Baldwin’s sister. If I wasn’t going to be away for a day or two I wouldn’t trouble you; but what am I to do? Now can you follow me?”
The quietness of his voice calmed and yet frightened her, as bullying would never have done; and she turned her worn face to his and bade him proceed.
“You’re right about the poor-house,” he said with an emphasis that struck a chill to the woman’s heart; “and I’m beginning to wonder if I can save you from it. I’ve lent him five hundred pounds of my own savings this morning, which he knows ought to go to the bank this afternoon, and he’s too drunk to take it.”
“Eh, dear! eh, dear!” Keturah sank into a chair and began to sob, but Inman checked her.
“Stop that baby work! If Nancy was able to go about she’d act for me, but as she isn’t there is only you.”