Grace half called after him, and then suddenly checking herself,
rushed in to her mother with a wild and pale face.
"What is this Mr. Thurnall has been saying to me about his belt and
money which he lost?"
"About what? Has he been rude to you, the bad man?" cried Mrs. Harvey,
dropping the pie-dish in some confusion, and taking a long while to
pick up the pieces.
"About the belt--the money which he lost? Why don't you speak,
mother?"
"Belt--money? Ah, I recollect now. He has lost some money, he says."
"Of course he has."
"How should you know anything? I recollect there was some talk of it,
though. But what matter what he says? He was quite passed away, I'll
swear, when they carried him up."
"But, mother! mother! he says that I know about it; that I had it in
my hands!"
"You? Oh the wicked wretch, the false, ungrateful, slanderous child of
wrath, with adder's poison tinder his lips! No, my child! Though we're
poor, we're honest! Let him slander us, rob us, of our good name, send
us to prison, if he will--he cannot rob us of our souls. We'll be
silent; we'll turn the other cheek, and commit our cause to One above
who pleads for the orphan and the widow. We will not strive nor cry,
my child. Oh, no!" And Mrs. Harvey began fussing over the smashed
pie-dish.
"I shall not strive nor cry, mother," said Grace, who had recovered
her usual calm: "but he must have some cause for these strange words.
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