heart, which is uneasy, and about what will happen to Mary when I am
gone. What's the good of this dirty money to a dying man? I'd give it
all to have my wife and the boy I lost back for a year or two; yes, I
would go into a shop again and sell sugar like my grandfather, and live
on the profits from the till and the counter. There's Mary calling. We
must tell a fib, we must say that we thought she was to come to fetch
us; don't you forget. Well, there it is, perhaps you'll think it over at
your leisure."

"Yes, John," replied the Colonel, solemnly; "certainly I will think it
over. Of course, there are pros and cons, but, on the whole, speaking
offhand, I don't see why the young people should not make a match. Also
you have always been a good relative, and, what is better, a good friend
to me, so, of course, if possible I should like to fall in with your
wishes."

Mr. Porson, who was advancing towards the door, wheeled round quickly.

"Thank you, Colonel," he said, "I appreciate your sentiments; but don't
you make any mistake. It isn't my wishes that have to be fallen in
with--or your wishes. It's the wishes of your son, Morris, and my
daughter, Mary. If they are agreeable I'd like it well; if not, all the
money in the world, nor all the families in the world, wouldn't make me
have anything to do with the job, or you either. Whatever our failings,
we are honest men--both of us, who would not sell our flesh and blood
for such trash as that."



CHAPTER IV