ponsible for your moods."

He leaned forward on the edge of the bed, resting on his hands, and
positively spat out his next words.

"Bah! You're a hypocrite. Go home to your sky-pilot. But keep your mouth
shut--do you hear?"

"I hear, father."

"Pay them back your money if you like, but don't ask me for another cent,
or I'll tell the truth--do you hear?"

"I hear, father," she replied, with a sob.

"Open the door for her, Trimmer."

Trimmer darted to the door as if his politeness had been questioned, and
bowed the daughter out.

When her footsteps had died away, he walked to the bed and looked down
contemptuously at the mumbling creature. He surveyed him critically, as a
doctor might look at a feverish patient.

"You're overdoing it," he said. "You're getting foolish."

"That's right, Trimmer--that's right. You abuse me, too!" whined the old
man, bursting into tears. "Isn't it bad enough to have one's child a
thief, without servants bullying one?"

"You are the last person to talk to Mrs. Swinton about stealing."

"Keep your tongue still!"

"If your daughter knew what I know!"

"You don't know anything, sir--you don't know anything!"

"I know a good deal. Three times during your illness, you were
light-headed--you remember?"

"I tell you, I'm not a thief. The money was mine--mine! Her mother was my
wife--it belonged to me. Doesn't a wife's money belong to her husband?"

"Tut, tut! Lie down and be quiet. I only kept quiet on condition that you
set things straight for your daughter in your will, and left her the
three thousand a year her mother placed in your care."

"Trimmer, you're presuming. Trimmer, you're a bully. I'll--I'll cut your
fifty thousand dollars out of my will--"

"And I'll promptly cut you out of existence, if you do," murmured
Trimmer, bending down.

"That's right, threaten me--threaten me," whined the old man. "You're all
against me--a lot of thieves and scoundrels! What would become of the
world, if there weren't a few people like me to look after the money and
save it from being squandered in soup-kitchens, and psalm-smiting, and
Sunday schools?"

"Lie down and be quiet. You've done enough talking for to-day. I'm going
to have you moved into the other room."

"I'll not be treated as a child, sir. I'll stop your wages, sir. I'll--"

"I've had no wages for many months. Lie down."

CHAPTER XVII

MRS. SWINTON GOES HOME

Mrs. Swinton returned to the rector, who was