railing.

"Owns both them rabbit-hutches, does he?" commented young Hagberd,
scornfully; "just the thing he would be proud of. Can you tell me who's
that chap coming to-morrow? You must know something of it. I tell you,
it's a swindle on the old man--nothing else."

She did not answer, helpless before an insurmountable difficulty,
appalled before the necessity, the impossibility and the dread of an
explanation in which she and madness seemed involved together.

"Oh--I am so sorry," she murmured.

"What's the matter?" he said, with serenity. "You needn't be afraid
of upsetting me. It's the other fellow that'll be upset when he least
expects it. I don't care a hang; but there will be some fun when he
shows his mug to-morrow. I don't care _that_ for the old man's pieces,
but right is right. You shall see me put a head on that coon--whoever he
is!"

He had come nearer, and towered above her on the other side of the
railings. He glanced at her hands. He fancied she was trembling, and it
occurred to him that she had her part perhaps in that little game that
was to be sprung on his old man to-morrow. He had come just in time
to spoil their sport. He was entertained by the idea--scornful of the
baffled plot. But all his life he had been full of indulgence for all
sorts of women's tricks. She really was trembling very much; her wrap
had slipped off her head. "Poor devil!" he thought. "Never mind about
that chap. I daresay he'll change his mind before to-morrow. But what
about me? I can't loaf about the gate til the morning."