He put the chisel to the lid, and struck at it with the poker, starting the hinges by the blow.
At that moment the door was flung wide, and in swam a dashing young woman in very gay colours, on the arm of a yachtsman.
"Charles!" she cried, "what are you after?" then turning abruptly on Mehalah, "And pray what are you doing here, in my house?" Mr. Pettican's head, which had been craned forward in eagerness over the box, retreated amidst the collar and cravat, and almost disappeared.
"Who are you?" she asked of Mehalah, with an insulting air. "Out of this house with you at once!"
"My dear Monie!" pleaded Mr. Pettican, lifting his shaking hands into an attitude of prayer.
"No 'My dears' and 'Monies' to me," said the wife. "I want to know what you are after with my cashbox? Ho, ho! trying to prize it open and squander my little sums laid aside for household expenses on—Heaven knows whom."
"Mr. Pettican is my mother's cousin" said Mehalah.
"Cousin, indeed! never heard Mr. Pettican speak of you. Cousins are sure to turn up when money is wanted."
"Mr. Pettican," said Mehalah, refusing to notice the insolent woman, "be a man and let me have the money you promised."
"I should like to be a man, oh! I wish I were a man! But I can't, I can't indeed, dear. I haven't been myself since I hauled down my flag."
"Charles, hold out your hand, and invite my cousin Timothy to dinner. He has kindly consented to stay a fortnight with us."
"Timothy!" echoed Mr. Pettican, "I did not know you had such a cousin."
"Do you think you know anything of my relations?" exclaimed Admonition; "I should hope not, they are a little above your sphere. There are lots more cousins!"
The poor little man sat shrinking behind his blinkers, peering piteously now at Mehalah, and then at his wife.
"Be a man," said Mehalah, grasping him by both hands. "Save us from ruin."
"Can't do it. Pretty, can't. I have struck my colours."
