“Hats⁠ ⁠… hats for bastards.⁠ ⁠…” Mr. Smith went on. “No, no, Lorna! It was to Longburton he took you. But never mind.⁠ ⁠… Albert Smith, home for bastards. Albert Smith, Ramsgard, Dorset, Draper and Hat-Dealer. To the school, I tell ’ee! No⁠—no⁠—no! She’ll never, never, never confess.⁠ ⁠… Longburton barn⁠ ⁠… hay and straw⁠ ⁠… hay and straw in your hair, my dear⁠ ⁠… and long past eleven.⁠ ⁠… What? You pricked your finger? A very pretty hat! Hats for bastards.⁠ ⁠… Home. My home. Albert Smith of Ramsgard come home.”

His head had sunk so low now as to be almost resting on Mattie’s shoulder, as she sobbed against his knees. Suddenly he lifted it with a spasmodic jerk.

“I’ll pay for the child! I’ve got the money. I’ll pay for them all and say nothing. Albert Smith, Draper and Hatter.⁠ ⁠… To the school, I tell ’ee!⁠ ⁠… Pay⁠ ⁠… pay all⁠ ⁠… pay.⁠ ⁠…”