There must be
no more fooling this way and that. I shall pay no fines for you--mark
that! If you must stand on your own feet, stand on them.... Now then!"
"Do you mean, am I coming to church with you, sir?"
"I mean, who is to pay your fines?... Miss Marjorie?"
Robin set his teeth at the sneer.
"I have not yet been fined, sir."
"Now do you take me for a fool? D'you think they'll let you off? I was
speaking--"
The old man stopped.
"Yes, sir?"
The other wheeled his face on him.
"If you will have it," he said, "I was speaking to my two good friends
who dined here on Sunday. I was plain with them and they were plain with
me. 'I shall not pay for my brat of a son,' I said. 'Then he must pay
for himself,' said they, 'unless we lay him by the heels.' 'Not in my
house, I hope,' I said; and they laughed at that. We were very merry
together."
"Yes, sir?"
"Good God! have I a fool for a son? I ask you again, Who is it to pay?"
"When will they demand it?"
"Why, they may demand it next week, if they will! You were not at church
on Sunday!"
"I was not in Matstead," said the lad.
"But--"
"And Mr. Barton will not, I think--"
The old man struck the table suddenly and violently.
"I have dropped words enough," he cried. "Where's the use of it? If you
think they will let you alone, I tell you they will not. There are to be
doings before Christmas, at latest; and what then?"
Then Robin drew his breath sharply between his teeth; and knew that one
more step had been passed, that had separated him from that which he
feared.
Pages:
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137