already flushing faintly into knowledge, that there was nothing that at a given moment you could say a clever child didn't know. It seemed to him that
he
both knew too much to imagine Morgan's simplicity and too little to disembroil his tangle.
|
The boy paid no heed to his last remark; he only went on: I should have spoken to them about their idea, as I call it, long ago, if I hadn't been sure what they would say.
|
Just what they said about what poor Zénobie told methat it was a horrid, dreadful story, that they had paid her every penny they owed her.
|
Well, perhaps they had, said Pemberton.
|
Perhaps they've paid you!
|
Let us pretend they have, and
n'en parlons plus.
|
They accused her of lying and cheating, Morgan insisted perversely. That's why I don't want to speak to them.
|
Lest they should accuse me, too?
|
To this Morgan made no answer, and his companion, looking down at him (the boy turned his eyes, which had filled, away), saw that he couldn't have trusted himself to utter.
|
You're right. Don't squeeze them, Pemberton pursued.
|
Except for that, they
are
charming people.
|
Except for
their
lying and
their
cheating?
|
I sayI say! cried Pemberton, imitating a little tone of the lad's which was itself an imitation.
|
We must be frank, at the last; we
must
come to an understanding, said Morgan, with the importance of the small boy who lets himself think he is arranging great affairsalmost playing at shipwreck or at Indians. I know all about everything, he added.
|
I daresay your father has his reasons, Pemberton observed, too vaguely, as he was aware.
|
For saving and managing and turning his means to the best account. He has plenty to do with his money. You're an expensive family.
|
Yes, I'm very expensive, Morgan rejoined, in a manner which made his preceptor burst out laughing.
|
He's saving for
you,
said Pemberton. They think of you in everything they do.
|
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