"I say, old gentleman, wasn't it
a lucky go that darkey's father was put out of the way so nicely,
eh?--We've been living in clover ever since--haven't we?"
"How dare you address me-in that disrespectful manner? Go out of the room,
sir!" exclaimed Mr. Stevens, with a disturbed countenance.
"Come, George, go to bed," urged his sister wearily. "Let father sleep--it
is after twelve o'clock. I am going to wake the nurse, and then retire
myself."
George rose stupidly from his chair, and followed his sister from the room.
On the stairway he grasped her arm rudely, and said, "I don't understand
how it is that you and the old man are so cursed thick all of a sudden. You
are thick as two thieves, always whispering and talking together. Act fair,
Liz--don't persuade him to leave you all the money. If you do, we'll
quarrel--that's flat. Don't try and cozen him out of my share as well as
your own--you hear!"
"Oh, George!" rejoined she reproachfully--"I never had such an idea."
"Then what are you so much together for? Why is there so much whispering
and writing, and going off on journeys all alone? What does it all mean,
eh?"
"It means nothing at all, George. You are not yourself to-night," said she
evasively; "you had better go to bed.
Pages:
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510