It's
terribly hard on old Mr. Cardigan to have to sell it, even at that
price."
"You do not understand these matters, Shirley. Don't try. And don't
waste your sympathy on that old humbug. He has to dig up fifty
thousand dollars to pay on his bonded indebtedness, and he's finding
it a difficult job. He's just sparring for time, but he'll lose out."
As if to indicate that he considered the matter closed, the Colonel
drew his chair toward the fire, picked up a magazine, and commenced
idly to slit the pages. Shirley studied the back of his head for some
time, then got out some fancy work and commenced plying her needle.
And as she plied it, a thought, nebulous at first, gradually took
form in her head until eventually she murmured loud enough for the
Colonel to hear:
"I'll do it."
"Do what?" Pennington queried.
"Something nice for somebody who did something nice for me," she
answered.
"That McTavish girl?" he suggested.
"Poor Moira! Isn't she sweet, Uncle Seth? I'm going to give her that
black suit of mine. I've scarcely worn it--"
"I thought so," he interrupted with an indulgent yawn. "Well, do
whatever makes for your happiness, my dear. That's all money is for."
About two o'clock the following afternoon old Judge Moore, of the
Superior Court of Humboldt County, drifted into Bryce Cardigan's
office, sat down uninvited, and lifted his long legs to the top of an
adjacent chair.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218