‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. When he came to a certain sentence in Brendon’s letter he stopped short and looked up at her. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. It was bleeding again. "What!" she exclaimed, almost choked with passion,—"I advised you to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who'm you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own expense, did I! I advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary? I advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? I counselled all this, I suppose. The sword, Jacques.
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