But look here! I
don't _want_ you to take any trouble. I don't want to _give_ you any
trouble. Now do you begin to see light?"
"No!" I threw at him.
"I don't believe you, dear girl. You malign your own wits. You pay
yourself worse compliments than I'd let any one else do! But I promised
not to keep you long. And if I break my promise it will be your
fault--because you're not reasonable. You're the pot and I'm the kettle,
because we're both tarred with the same brush. By the way, _are_ pots
and kettles blacked with tar? They look it. But that's a detail. My
sister and I are just as dead broke and down and out as you and your
brother are. I mean, as you _were_, and as you may be again, if you make
mistakes."
"I'd rather not bring my brother into this discussion," I said. "He's
too far above it--and us. You can do as you choose about your sister."
"I can make _her_ do as _I_ choose," he amended. "That's where my
scheme came in, and where it still holds good. When I read the news of
Pa and Ma Beckett arriving in Paris, it jumped into my head like a--like
a----"
"Toad," I supplied the simile.
"I was leaving it to you," said he. "I thought you ought to know, for by
a wonderful coincidence which should draw us together, the same great
idea must have occurred to you--in the same way, and on the same day. I
bet you the first hundred francs I get out of old Beckett that it was
so!"
"Mr. O'Farrell, you're a Beast!" I cried.
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