“Well, I hope he finds it,” said Mrs. Berry, with more venom than the remark seemed to require. “Why, where’s your marble clock?”
Mrs. Cox coughed. “It’s being mended,” she said, confusedly.
Mrs. Berry eyed her anxiously. “Don’t mind him, my dear,” she said, with a jerk of her head in the direction of Mr. Piper, “he’s nobody. Wouldn’t you like to go out on the beach a little while, uncle?”
“No,” said Mr. Piper.
“I suppose Mr. Cox took the clock for company,” remarked Mrs. Berry, after a hostile stare at her relative.
Mrs. Cox sighed and shook her head. It was no use pretending with Mrs. Berry.
“He’ll pawn the clock and anything else he can lay his hands on, and when he’s drunk it up come home to be made a fuss of,” continued Mrs. Berry, heatedly; “that’s you men.”
Her glance was so fiery that Mr. Joseph Piper was unable to allow the remark to pass unchallenged.
“I never pawned a clock,” he said, stroking his little grey head.
“That’s a lot to boast of, isn’t it?” demanded his niece; “if I hadn’t got anything better than that to boast of I wouldn’t boast at all.”