"My dearest child," she said, "you know how happy I shall be to help
you. In fact, I'll do all the work and you shall have all the glory."
"There you are, then," cried my father, slapping me on the shoulder, and
then, turning to Alma, he told her to set to work without a day's delay.
"Let everything be done correct even if it costs me a bit of money."
"Yes, sir."
"A rael big thing, ma'am, such as nobody has ever seen before."
"Yes indeed, sir."
"Ask all the big people on the island--Nessy MacLeod shall send you a
list of them."
"I will, sir."
"That'll do for the present--I guess I must be going now, or old Conrad
will be agate of me. So long, gel, so long."
I was silenced, I was helpless, I was ashamed.
I did not know then, what now I know, that, besides the desire of
celebrating the forthcoming birth of an heir, my father had another and
still more secret object--that of throwing dust in the eyes of his
advocates, bankers, and insular councillors, who (having expected him to
make money for them by magic) were beginning to whisper that all was not
well with his financial schemes.
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