the banks in the town—never mind which—and that will shall be deposited with them tomorrow morning."
Mrs. Mallathorpe shook her head.
"No!" she said. "Because—you'll come to terms with me."
Pratt shook his head, too, and he laughed.
"Of course I shall come to terms with you," he answered. "But they'll be my terms—and they don't include any giving up of that document. That's flat, Mrs. Mallathorpe!"
"Not if I make it worth your while?" she asked. "Listen!—you don't know what ready money I can command. Ready money, I tell you—cash down, on the spot!"
"I've a pretty good notion," responded Pratt. "It's generally understood in the town that your son's a mere figure-head, and that you're the real boss of the whole show. I know that you're at the mill four times a week, and that the managers are under your thumb. I know that you manage everything connected with the estate. So, of course, I know you've lots of ready money at your disposal."
"And I know that you don't earn more than four or five pounds a week, at the outside," said Mrs. Mallathorpe quietly. "Come, now—just think what a nice, convenient thing it would be to a young man of your age to have—a capital. Capital! It would be the making of you. You could go right away—to London, say, and start out on whatever you liked. Be sensible—sell me that paper—and be done with the whole thing."
"No!" replied Pratt.
