“First of all, did you make any agreement with George Store-field?” she said.

“No; why should I? Has he been talking to you about me? What right has he to meddle with my business?”

“Oh, Dick, don’t talk like that. Anything that he said was only to do you a kindness, and Jim.”

“Hang him, and his kindness too,” I said. “Let him keep it for those that want it. But what did he tell you?”

“He said, first of all,” answered poor Aileen, with the tears in her eyes, and trying to take hold of my hand, “that he had a contract for fencing timber, which he had taken at good prices, which he would share with you and Jim; that he knew you two and himself could finish it in a few weeks, and that he expected to get the contract for the timber for the new bridge at Bargo, which he would let you go shares in too. He didn’t like to speak about that, because it wasn’t certain: but he had calculated all the quantities and prices, and he was sure you would make £70 or £80 each before Christmas. Now, was there any harm in that; and don’t you think it was very good of him to think of it?”

“Well, he’s not a bad fellow, old George,” I said, “but he’s a little too fond of interfering with other people’s business. Jim and I are quite able to manage our own affairs, as I told him this evening, when I refused to have anything to do with his fencing arrangement.”

“Oh, Dick, did you?” she said. “What a pity! I made sure Jim would have liked it so, for only last week he said he was sick and tired of having nothing to do—that he should soon lose all his knack at using tools that he used to be so proud of. Didn’t he say he’d like to join George?”

“He would, I daresay, and I told him to do as he liked. I came away by myself, and only saw him just before we crossed the range. He’s big enough and old enough to take his own line.”

“But you know he thinks so much of you,” she groaned out, “that he’d follow you to destruction. That will be the end of it, depend upon it, Dick. I tell you so now; you’ve taken to bad ways; you’ll have his blood on your head yet.”

“Jim’s old enough and big enough to take care of himself,” I said sulkily. “If he likes to come my way I won’t hinder him; I won’t try to persuade him one way or the other. Let him take his own line; I don’t believe in preaching and old women’s talk. Let a man act and think for himself.”

“You’ll break my heart, and poor mother’s too,” said Aileen, suddenly taking both my hands in hers. “What has she done but love us ever since we were born, and what does she live for? You know she has no pleasure of any kind, you know she’s afraid every morning she wakes that the police will get father for some of his cross doings; and now you and Jim are going the same wild way, and what ever—what ever will be the end of it?”