“Sophia will have nearly as much.  Call her, father.  Surely between us we can arrange five hundred pounds.  I shall be real glad to help Harry.  Young men have so many temptations now, father.  Harry is a good sort in the main.  Just have a little patience with him.  Eh, father?”

And the squire was glad of the pleading voice.  Glad for some one to make the excuses he did not think it right to make.  Glad to have the little breath of hope that Charlotte’s faith in her brother gave him.  He stood up, and took her face between his hands and kissed it.  Then he sent a servant for Sophia; and after a short delay the young lady appeared, looking pale and exceedingly injured.

“Did you send for me, father?”

“Yes, I did.  Come in and sit down.  There is something to be done for Harry, and we want your help, Sophia.  Eh?  What?”

She pushed a chair gently to the table, and sat down languidly.  She was really sick, but her air and attitude was that of a person suffering an extremity of physical anguish.  The squire looked at her and then at Charlotte with dismay and self-reproach.

“Harry wants five hundred pounds, Sophia.”

“I am astonished he does not want five thousand pounds.  Father, I would not send him a sovereign of it.  Julius told me about his carryings-on.”

She could hardly have said any words so favorable to Harry’s cause.  The squire was on the defensive for his own side in a moment.

“What has Julius to do with it?” he cried.  “Sandal-Side is not his property, and please God it never will be.  Harry is one kind of a sinner, Julius is another kind of a sinner.  God Almighty only knows which kind of sinner is the meaner and worse.  The long and the short of it, is this:  Harry must have five hundred pounds.  Charlotte is willing to give the balance of her interest account, about three hundred pounds, towards it.  Will you make up what is lacking, out of your interest money?  Eh?  What?”

“I do not know why I should be asked to do this, I am sure.”

“Only because I have no ready money at present.  And because, however bad Harry is, he is your brother.  And because he is heir of Sandal, and the honor of the name is worth saving.  And because your mother will break her heart if shame comes to Harry.  And there are some other reasons too; but if mother, brother, and honor don’t seem worth while to you, why, then, Sophia, there is no use wasting words.  Eh?  What?”

“Let father have what is needed, Sophia.  I will pay you back.”

“Very well, Charlotte; but I think it is most unjust, most iniquitous, as Julius says”—­

“Now, then, don’t quote Julius to me.  What right had he to be discussing my family matters, or Sandal matters either, I wonder?  Eh?  What?”

“He is in the family.”

“Is he?  Very well, then, I am still the head of the family.  If he has any advice to offer, he can come to me with it.  Eh?  What?”