Whitelaw,
contemplating his kinswoman with a most evil expression of countenance.
"What's put that stuff in your head?"
"Your own doings, Stephen, and that man's. What does he come here for,
with his masterful ways, unless it's to turn us out of house and home?
What did you show him the house for? Nigh upon an hour you were out of
this room with him, if you were a minute. Why did money pass from him to
you? I saw you put it in your pocket--a bundle of bank-notes."
"You're a prying old catemeran!" cried Mr. Whitelaw savagely, "and a
drunken old fool into the bargain.--Why do you let her muddle herself
with the gin-bottle like that, Ellen? You ought to have more respect for
my property. You don't call that taking care of your husband's house.--As
for you, mother Tadman, if you treat me to any more of this nonsense, you
will find yourself turned out of house and home a precious deal sooner
than you bargained for; but it won't be because of my selling Wyncomb.
Sell Wyncomb, indeed! I've about as much thought of going up in a
balloon, as of parting with a rood or a perch of my father's land."
This was a very long speech for Mr. Whitelaw; and, having finished it, he
sank into his chair, quite exhausted by the unusual effort, and refreshed
himself with copious libations of gin-and-water.
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