"I don't think 'tis a matter need be talked of now," said Phil.

"But I'd like to know--'gad, it can't be the other sister! Madge--that
spitfire! Well, well! Your face speaks, if your tongue won't. Who'd
have thought any man would go soft over such a vixen? Well, I can't
help you there, my lad!"

"I haven't asked your help," says Phil with a smile.

"Now, it's a pity," says Ned, dolefully, "for I thought by doing you a
good turn I might get you to do me another."

"Oh, I see! Why, then, as for my doing you a good turn if it's
possible, speak out. What is it?"

"Now, I call that noble of you, Phil; damned noble! I do need a good
turn, and that's a fact. You see I didn't tell my father exactly the
truth as to my leaving the Barbadoes. Not that I don't scorn a lie,
but I was considerate of the old gentleman's feelings. I couldn't
endure to shock him in his tenderest place. You understand?"

"I probably shall when you've finished."

"Why, I dare say you know what the old man's tenderest place is. Well,
if you won't answer, 'tis his pride in the family name, the spotless
name of Faringfield! Oh, I've worked upon that more than once, I tell
you. The old gentleman will do much to keep the name without a
blemish; I could always bring him to terms by threatening to disgrace
it--"