She divined that the old man must be allowed to run on in his own way, and for a long time he rambled, gave a picture of the wedding, and of a robbery of Boyne's Bank: the firm of Boyne, Burt, Hamble, and Company.

At last, he touched on Dahlia.
"What she wants, I can't make out," he said; "and what that good lady there, or somebody, made mention of--how she manages to dress as she do! I can understand a little goin' a great way, if you're clever in any way; but I'm at my tea"-- Anthony laid his hand out as to exhibit a picture.

"I ain't a complaining man, and be young, if you can, I say, and walk about and look at shops; but, I'm at my tea: I come home rather tired there's the tea-things, sure enough, and tea's made, and, maybe, there's a shrimp or two; she attends to your creature comforts.

When everything's locked up and tight and right, I'm gay, and ask for a bit of society: well, I'm at my tea: I hear her foot thumping up and down her bed-room overhead: I know the meaning of that: I'd rather hear nothing: down she runs: I'm at my tea, and in she bursts."-- Here followed a dramatic account of Dahlia's manner of provocation, which was closed by the extinction of his pipe.
The farmer, while his mind still hung about thousands of pounds and a certain incomprehensible division of them to produce a distinct intelligible total, and set before him the sum of Anthony's riches, could see that his elder daughter was behaving flightily and neglecting the true interests of the family, and he was chagrined.

But Anthony, before he entered the house, had assured him that Dahlia was well, and that nothing was wrong with her.