Old Tom's cruel laughter made Andrew feel for the unhappy ladies. He
stuck his forehead, and leaned forward, saying: 'I don't know--'pon my
honour, I don't know--can't think we've--quite done right to punish 'em
so.'

This acted like cold water on Old Tom's delight. He pitched it back in
the shape of a doubt of what Andrew had told him. Whereupon Andrew
defied him to face three miserable women on the verge of hysterics; and
Old Tom, beginning to chuckle again, rejoined that it would bring them to
their senses, and emancipate him.

'You may laugh, Mr. Tom,' said Andrew; 'but if poor Harry should find me
out, deuce a bit more home for me.'

Old Tom looked at him keenly, and rapped the table. 'Swear you did it,
Nan.'

'You promise you'll keep the secret,' said Andrew.

'Never make promises.'

'Then there's a pretty life for me! I did it for that poor dear boy.
You were only up to one of your jokes--I see that. Confound you, Old
Tom, you've been making a fool of me.'

The flattering charge was not rejected by Old Tom, who now had his
brother to laugh at as well. Andrew affected to be indignant and
desperate.

'If you'd had a heart, Tom, you'd have saved the poor fellow without any