Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. Only now it does not matter at all because Joan has come and has seen me. The moment my escape is known, a large reward will be placed on my head. "What!" she exclaimed, almost choked with passion,—"I advised you to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who'm you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own expense, did I! I advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary? I advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? I counselled all this, I suppose. “John, don’t!” she cried. Every time you mention the father, she turns into marble. “We will see that he doesn’t follow you. But still you have told me of my real mother when I thought it was Suzanne Valade.
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