She was in company with your son." The squire was thrumming on the arm of his chair.

He looked up vaguely, as if waiting for the question to follow, but meeting the farmer's settled eyes, he cried, irritably, "Well, what's that to me ?" "What's that to you, squire ?" "Are you going to make me out responsible for my son's conduct?
My son's a rascal--everybody knows that.

I paid his debts once, and I've finished with him.

Don't come to me about the fellow.

If there's a greater curse than the gout, it's a son." "My girl," said the farmer, "she's my flesh and blood, and I must find her, and I'm here to ask you to make your son tell me where she's to be found.