Nancy’s heart sank. Uncle John had always been too absorbed in his account books to have time to spare for strengthening family ties,—a duty which he would have regarded, if he had ever given it a moment’s thought, as falling within the province of his wife and daughter; but he had been kind in his own off-hand way, and he was her father’s brother; it was impossible to view his impending ruin with unconcern. Moreover, her husband’s jaunty, well-satisfied tone grated on her ears.
“He’s sailed as near the wind as any man I’ve ever known, this last ten years,” continued Inman, with a change of voice that was as noticeable as the change of metaphor. “The cutest old money-grubber in Airlee, bar none. A man who kept his conscience in his pew at church alongside his Prayer Book, and never missed it when he sat at his desk. If there’s been one man more than another that I’ve looked up to it’s been John Clegg. But he’s gone on too fast and too far—that’s where your uncle’s made his mistake. If he’d sold out five years since—but then a man like him couldn’t stop, no more’n an engine that’s jammed its brakes and is running at full steam.”
“I don’t suppose you can imagine that all this is very agreeable to me,” interposed Nancy wearily. “If Uncle John is ruined a good many other people must be ruined with him; and poor Aunt Ann and Jennie——”
Inman gave a short sneering laugh.
“You needn’t lose any sleep over your Aunt Ann and Jennie. A man who’ll provide for his loving niece’ll have a little nest egg hidden away somewhere for self and family, you bet. Your uncle’s no fool, my lass! Not that he got on his knees exactly, to ask me to bring your bit away. He’d have given you a three months’ bill or something o’ that sort if yours truly had been willing, but that wheeze didn’t work. To tell you the truth there was a time when I’d hold the stick over him; but when he saw he’d met his match he turned quite pleasant, and we parted the best o’ friends.”
“And you’ve brought all my money back with you?” Nancy asked.
“If I’d dropped it in the river you couldn’t talk grumpier,” Inman replied coldly “This is what I get for grabbing five hundred pounds out o’ the ruins!”
“Nay, I’m glad enough it’s saved, if what you say is true,” Nancy said; but still without enthusiasm. “Was that what you went for? and—what about Baldwin?”
The thought of his participation in the looked-for catastrophe had been slow to reach her, as the startled note in her voice evidenced. Inman laughed and lowered his voice still more.
“Yes, that’s what I went for; but Baldwin mustn’t guess it. He thinks, and he’s got to go on thinking, that I went to pull his chestnuts out o’ the fire; but he’ll have to be satisfied with fair words and promises. He’ll be pleased, you’ll see, with what I’ve done; or, anyway, I shall see it, for he’ll none talk about it till we get into the office—but——”