"Certainly, Mrs. Stover, and a great deal more, of course; but, you see, I understand those London lawyers, and please remember that if your husband the Duke"—she sniffed contemptuously at this, but Tom went on—"if your husband the Duke had replied as you wished him to do the other day, he would have given the whole show away. Now, if they've made your husband any offer at all, it's so much to the good."
"Why, they've offered him twenty-five pounds cash down, and put 'without prejudice' on their letter, too," said one of Pitts's friends.
"There! What did I tell you?" cried Tom. "Those people are frightened out of their wits. You ought to be proud of your husband, Mrs. Stover. Twenty-five pounds, eh? Now, just look how he's made them come up to time."
Old Stover nodded his head sagely.
"That's what I've been a-telling of her," he said.
The agreement with Tom was so unanimous that for a moment the old fishwife was disconcerted.
"You'd—you'd refuse the money?" she stammered.
"Oh no, Mrs. Stover, I'd accept it."
"Well, bless your silly brains, that's just what I told him to do."
"Quite right, Mrs. Stover, but I wouldn't accept it in full of all demands."
"Aha," was the simultaneous exclamation of the
