“No dinner at all! Are you sure, my pet?”
Yes, the child was sure, as sure as a child could be.
Holdsworth sprang up and rang the bell, and entered the passage to await Mrs. Parrot. She came out of her kitchen, and Holdsworth exclaimed, mastering his agitation:
“I want to confer with you, Mrs. Parrot. Nelly tells me that her mamma has no dinner to-day. Is this likely—is this possible, do you think?”
“Indeed, sir, since you ask me, I do then, and God forgi’ me for thinkin’ the worst,” answered Mrs. Parrot.
“But,” cried Holdsworth, “I gave Mr. Conway ten pounds this morning, stipulating that he should spend it on his wife and child!”
“He!” exclaimed Mrs. Parrot, almost savagely. “The wretch! ten pounds! he’ll spend it all i’ liquor! Oh, sir, why didn’t you give it to the poor lady?”
“Yes—I ought to have done so,” replied Holdsworth clasping his hands. “But how could I—what excuse could I have found for sending it to her? Oh, Mrs. Parrot! something must be done. I can’t bear to think of the poor lady actually dinnerless. What can we contrive? Remember—she is a lady—we must be careful.”
“To think of your lending ten pounds to that villin!” cried Mrs. Parrot, whose mind was staggered by the munificence of the sum and the artfulness of the man in obtaining it. “I niver heerd of such a thing! And was that his reason for callin’? If I’d ha’ only known his object, I’d ha’ sent him packin’ with his blarney, wouldn’t I?”
“What do you advise?” said Holdsworth, eagerly.