"Money?" demanded Euphrasia. "He ain't lost money, has he?"
A light began to dance in Austen's eyes in spite of the weight within him.
"Now, Phrasie," he said, lifting her chin a little, "you know you don't care any more about money than I do."
"Lord help me," she exclaimed, "Lord help me if I didn't! And as long as you don't care for it, and no sense can be knocked into your head about it, I hope you'll marry somebody that does know the value of it. If Hilary was to lose what he has now, before it comes rightly to you, he'd ought to be put in jail."
Austen laughed, and shook his head.
"Phrasie, the Lord did you a grave injustice when he didn't make you a man, but I suppose he'll give you a recompense hereafter. No, I believe I am safe in saying that the Judge's securities are still secure. Not that I really know--or care--" (shakes of the head from Euphrasia). "Poor old Judge! Worse things than finance are troubling him now."
"Not a woman!" cried Euphrasia, horror-stricken at the very thought. "He hasn't took it into his head after all these years--"
"No," said Austen, laughing, "no, no. It's not quite as bad as that, but it's pretty bad."