"Talk sense," said Nathan Smith, shortly.
"Sense!" cried Mr. Kybird. "Is my gal to be played fast and loose with like that? Is my gal to be pitched over when 'e likes? Is my gal—"
"Wot's the good o' talking like that to me?" said the indignant Mr. Smith. "The best thing you can do is to get 'er married to Teddy at once, afore 'e knows of 'is luck."
"And when'll that be?" inquired his friend, in a calmer voice.
"Any time," said the boarding-master, shrugging his shoulders. "The old gentleman might go out to-night, or again 'e might live on for a week or more. 'E was so weak 'e couldn't 'ardly sign 'is name."
"I 'ope 'e 'as signed it all right," said Mr. Kybird, starting.
"Safe as 'ouses," said his friend.
"Well, why not wait till Teddy 'as got the money?" suggested Mrs. Kybird, with a knowing shake of her head.
"Becos," said Mr. Smith, in a grating voice, "be-cos for one thing 'e'd be a rich man then and could 'ave 'is pick. Teddy Silk on a pound or thereabouts a week and Teddy Silk with ten thousand pounds 'ud be two different people. Besides that 'e'd think she was marrying 'im for 'is money."
"If 'e thought that," said Mrs. Kybird, firmly, "I'd never forgive 'im."