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The child partook of Aunt Mary's pride in that silver, made for a Kentucky great-grandfather Leffingwell by a famous Philadelphia silversmith three-quarters of a century before. Honora sighed. "What's the matter, Honora?" asked Aunt Mary, without pausing in her vigorous rubbing. "The Leffingwells used to be great once upon a time, didn't they, Aunt Mary?"
To jump at conclusions in this way is by no means to understand a heroine with an Ideal. She had these things, and strange as it may seem suffered. Her sunny drawing-room, with its gathered silk curtains, was especially beautiful; whatever the Leffingwells or Allisons may have lacked, it was not taste.
Holt was smaller than his wife, neat in dress and unobtrusive in appearance. In the rich Mrs. Holt, the friend of the Randolph Leffingwells, Aunt Mary was prepared to find a more vapidly fashionable personage, and had schooled herself forthwith. "You are Mrs. Thomas Leffingwell?" she asked. "Well, I am relieved."
He leaned from the bed and pulling aside the curtain a half an inch or so, looked into the room. The fire had died down except a few coals which cast but a faint light. Yet it was sufficient to show Dick that the two Leffingwells had not gone to bed. They were sitting fully clothed before the fireplace, and three other persons were with them.
The child partook of Aunt Mary's pride in that silver, made for a Kentucky great-grandfather Leffingwell by a famous Philadelphia silversmith three-quarters of a century before. Honora sighed. "What's the matter, Honora?" asked Aunt Mary, without pausing in her vigorous rubbing. "The Leffingwells used to be great once upon a time, didn't they, Aunt Mary?"
As Dick stared his eyes grew more used to the half dusk and he saw clearly. The three strangers were young men, all armed heavily, and the resemblance of two of them to the Leffingwells was so striking that he had no doubt they were their sons. Now he understood about those empty stalls.
But her words did not seem to make any impression upon the others, except her husband, who protested again that it would be enough to take the horse. As for the dispatches it wasn't wise for them to fool with such things. But Kerins insisted on going the whole route and the young Leffingwells were with him.
Holt was smaller than his wife, neat in dress and unobtrusive in appearance. In the rich Mrs. Holt, the friend of the Randolph Leffingwells, Aunt Mary was prepared to find a more vapidly fashionable personage, and had schooled herself forthwith. "You are Mrs. Thomas Leffingwell?" she asked. "Well, I am relieved."
"He'll never get a chance to shoot," he said. "Why, after all he went through today, he'll sleep like a log till mornin'." "That's so," said one of the young Leffingwells, "an' Kerins is right. We ought to grab them dispatches. Likely in one way or another we kin git a heap fur 'em." "Shut up, Jim, you fool," said his mother sharply. "Do you want murder on your hands?
He had not noticed at first the cause that really awakened him, but as he settled back into bed, grateful for the fresh air, the same mysterious power gave him a second warning signal. He heard the hum of voices and sat up again. It was merely the Leffingwells in the bed at the far end of the room, talking!
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