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We'll show the fathers what the sons can do." A thrill of happiness lighted Leigh's face for a moment, then a shadow fell over it as she said: "Thaine, Darley Champers and I have kept a secret for a year." "You kept it 'danged' well. What was it?" Thaine asked gaily. "Jane Aydelot, who died last year, left me all her property," Leigh began.
"Champers, my old buggy is like a rocking chair. Let me take you home with me for a few days while you are wearing patches on your head," Horace Carey suggested. Darley Champers stared at his helper in surprise. Then he said slowly: "Say, Doc, I've hated you a good many years for doin' just such tricks for folks. It was my cussedness made me do it, I reckon.
Through the rear door the roomy backyard, which was Champers' one domestic pleasure, sent in an odor of white lilac. By all the rules Champers should have preferred hollyhocks and red peonies, if he had cared for flowers at all. It was for the memory of the old mother, whom he would not turn adrift to please a frivolous wife, that he grew the white blossoms she had loved.
Your English papers they are so expensive; in Paris we have done it for half the money." Barbara and some of the guests laughed outright, finding this frankness charming. "But where have you been, Miss Champers? I thought that we were going to have a round of golf together. The caddies were there, I was there, the greens had been specially rolled this morning, but there was no You."
The other patrons sat at the long board, while the little side table for two was filled today with Champers, the real estate man, and the latest arrival, Mr. Thomas Smith, of Wilmington, Delaware. "Who's the man with the dark mustache up there?" Thomas Smith asked. "Doc Carey," Champers replied with a scowl. "You don't seem to need him?"
His eyes were on Asher Aydelot, who had not voted. "Didn't you see? Everybody, except Asher there, is nailed fast to the gumbo," Stewart declared. Darley Champers looked Asher Aydelot straight in the eyes, and nobody could have said that pity or dislike or surprise controlled the man's mind, for something of all three were in that look.
Eagerness to represent and invest large capital and to make by far the best of a bargain by any means just inside the law were his besetments. But he had not the unremitting hatred that enslaved Thomas Smith and Hans Wyker. Champers' store of energy seemed exhaustless. Following this council he fell upon the Grass River Valley and threshed it to his profit.
I've always been rather fond of her, anyhow!" "And Darley Champers found out that my father was accidentally drowned long ago in Clover Creek. Uncle Jim says he never could swim, and so that burden is lifted. But, Thaine, will you want to go back to Ohio to the Aydelot homestead?
While on the farther side of the road lay the still form of John Jacobs, rain-beaten and smeared with mud, as if he had struggled backward in his death-throes. As Champers bent tenderly over him, the smile on his lips took away the awfulness of the sight, and the serenity of the rain-drenched face rested as visible token of an abundant entrance into eternal peace.
Besides I'm not sure now whether he's a agent, representin' some principal, or the principal representin' hisself. And in that case I'd have to deal the cards different for him, and them he'd do harm to." "You are a humane man, Champers," Carey declared. "I think I've hated you, too, a good many years. These gray hairs of ours ought to make us better behaved now.
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