There was another that evening between Mrs. Dunn and her son, which was
not devoid of interest. Malcolm listened to the information which his
mother gave him, and commented upon it in characteristic fashion.

"Humph!" he observed, "two hundred and fifty thousand, instead of the
two million you figured on, Mater! Two hundred and fifty thousand isn't
so much, in these days."

"No," replied his parent, sharply, "it isn't so much, but it isn't so
little, either."

"I suppose one can get along on it."

"Yes, one can. In fact, I know of two who are managing with a good deal
less. Don't be any more of a fool than you can help, Malcolm. The sum
itself isn't small, and, besides, the Warrens are a family of standing.
To be connected with them is worth a good deal. There are infinite
possibilities in it. Oh, if only I might live to see the day when
tradespeople meant something other than nuisances to be dodged, I THINK
I could die contented."

"Caro's a decent sort of a girl," commented Malcolm, reflectively.

"She's a bright girl and an attractive one. Just now she is in a mood to
turn to us, to you. But, for Heaven's sake, be careful! She is delicate
and sensitive and requires managing. She likes you. If only you weren't
such a blunderer!"

"Much obliged, Mater. You're free with your compliments this evening.