"You forget yourself, mother," said Tom, hotly. Like all easy-going men who have good tempers and are seldom roused up to anger, Tom took some time to lose his temper thoroughly, and when he did, he lost it completely. He was now in a regular passion, and his mother's taunts sent him up to fever heat. "Forget myself, indeed!"--It was a case of flint and steel between the two.--"It is you that forget yourself, talking like a Bashaw of Nine Tails of marrying whom you please, as if you were a lord and master. Fine doings, indeed! why you're as mad as your sister Susan." "You need not bring poor Susan into the conversation, mother. I'm sure she's very happy, and I believe she did for the best, if this be a sample of a mother's affection, and what she would have met with at home"--Tom ejaculated bitterly. "Oh! she did for the best, did she? And a fine mess she made of it, running off with that swindling vagabond. I would like to see him on the treadmill! If that was the only way in which she could get back her senses, it would have been better for her to have been dead at once. But it is the way with all silly women; they never seem to have their senses until they have tied themselves to some scoundrel who has only married them for their money. You are more mad than she is, Thomas. Marry, indeed! A pretty pass things are coming to. You're an idiot, and she's a minx, there!" "I tell you, mother, I won't have you say a word against that lady. If there be any fault attached to the business, which I can't see myself, she's not to blame at any rate." "She's a little minx, there," repeated the dowager, with increased venom. She saw how well the shaft was aimed, and like a woman she pushed it in. "I won't have it, mother." "Minx! minx! minx! there!" uttered the old lady rapidly, giving her head a jerky nod after each repetition of the obnoxious epithet. "This is scandalous!" said Tom, literally boiling over with passion. The term "minx," applied to Lizzie, having apparently the same effect on him as a red rag has on a bull, or a fat turkey gobler, to adapt a more ignoble simile. "I won't have it, whether you're my mother or not, and I'll marry whom I please, without asking your leave or licence." "You will, will you? I should like to know how you're going to support a wife? I'm not going to do it for you." "I don't care whether you do or do not," said Tom, savagely. The bull had been now tormented sufficiently, and the matador thought it time to give the _coup de grace_. "Mark my words," said the dowager, impressively, "if you marry that chit, Thomas, or have anything more to do with her, or any of that toadying crew, not a penny piece of my money do you get, Thomas." "Hang the money! I don't want it: I suppose I can get along somehow or other without it."