"
Dr. Wycherley admired Alfred for this, and whispered Mr. Osmond, "How
subtly they reason."
Mr. Hardie did not deign to answer his son, who indeed had spoken at him,
and not to him.
As for poor Maxley, he was in sad and sober earnest, and could not relish
nor even take in Alfred's irony. He lifted his head and looked Mr. Hardie
in the face.
"You be a hard man," said he, trembling with emotion. "You robbed me and
my missus of our all; you ha' broke her heart, and turned my head, and if
I was to come and kill _you,_ 'twould only be clearing scores. 'Stead of
that, I comes to you like a lamb, and says give me your name on a bit of
paper, and put me out of harm's way. 'No,' says you, 'go to the
workhouse!' Be _you_ in the workhouse--you that owes me nine hundred
pounds and my dead missus?" With this he went into a rage, took a packet
out of his pocket, and flung L. 900 of Mr. Hardie's paper at Mr. Hardie's
head before any one could stop him.
But Alfred saw his game, stepped forward, and caught it with one hand,
and with the dexterity of a wicket-keeper, within a foot of his father's
nose.
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