"Young Morton! I say, young Morton!"
"It's Mr. Lambert," she breathed. "Go quick."
George remembered what Sylvia had said about someone else having the strength.
"Can't you guess, Ma, what the young lady's brother wants of me?"
The bitterness left his face. His smile was engaging.
"To give me the devil."
"Young Morton! Young Morton!"
"Coming!" he called.
"George," she begged, "don't have any trouble with Mr. Lambert."