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They were both thinking of the same thing of the same man. He repeated a question. "What brings you out here, Jo?" he asked, gently. "Dorland," she answered, her face setting into determination and anxiety. His face became pinched. "Dorl!" he said, heavily. "What for, Jo? What do you want with Dorl?" "When Cynthy died she left her five hundred dollars a year to the baby, and " "Yes, yes, I know.
"Do you see him up here ever?" she asked pityingly. "I never saw him till a week ago." A moment, then he added: "The letter wasn't to be sent here in his own name, was it?" She nodded. "Yes, in his own name, Dorland W. Foyle. Didn't he go by that name when you saw him?"
They were both thinking of the same thing of the same man. He repeated a question. "What brings you out here, Jo?" he asked gently. "Dorland," she answered, her face setting into determination and anxiety. His face became pinched. "Dorl!" he said heavily. "What for, Jo? What do you want with Dorl?" "When Cynthy died she left her five hundred dollars a year to the baby, and " "Yes, yes, I know.
"From the lawyer that pays over the money. Dorland has had it sent out here to Kowatin this two years. And he sent word to the lawyer a month ago that he wanted it to get here as usual. The letter left the same day as I did, and it got here yesterday with me, I suppose. He'll be after it perhaps to-day. He wouldn't let it wait long, Dorl wouldn't." Foyle started. "To-day to-day "
Well, Jo?" "Well, it was all right for five years Dorland paid it in; but for five years he hasn't paid anything. He's taken it, stolen it from his own child by his own honest wife. I've come to get it anyway, to stop him from doing it any more. His own child it puts murder in my heart, Nett! I could kill him." He nodded grimly. "That's likely.
Her eldest daughter, Martha, known as Patty Dorland, attained the age of ninety-two. Then followed Samuel, Elizabeth, Thomas, Mary and Jane. These, with the exception of Thomas and Mary Ingersoll, my wife's mother, died many years ago. Thomas Casey died at Brighton, in January of this year, aged eighty-seven, and Mary Ingersoll on the first of June, aged eighty-five, the last of the family.
Better to do it now when Bobby is young and can't understand." "Or read the newspapers," he commented, thoughtfully. "I don't think I've a hard heart," she continued, "but I'd like to punish him, if it wasn't that he's your brother, Nett, and if it wasn't for Bobby. Dorland was dreadfully cruel, even to Cynthy." "How did you know he was up here?" he asked.
Better to do it now when Bobby is young and can't understand." "Or read the newspapers," he commented thoughtfully. "I don't think I've a hard heart," she continued, "but I'd like to punish him, if it wasn't that he's your brother, Nett; and if it wasn't for Bobby. Dorland was dreadfully cruel, even to Cynthy." "How did you know he was up here?" he asked. "From the lawyer that pays over the money.
I loved Bobby so he has Cynthy's eyes. One day Dorland oh, Nett, of course I oughtn't to have stayed there, I know it now; but I was only sixteen, and what did I understand! And my mother was dead. One day oh, please, Nett, you can guess. He said something to me. I made him leave the house. Before I could make plans what to do, he came back mad with drink.
Dorland has had it sent out here to Kowatin this two years. And he sent word to the lawyer a month ago that he wanted it to get here as usual. The letter left the same day as I did, and it got here yesterday with me, I suppose. He'll be after it-perhaps to-day. He wouldn't let it wait long, Dorl wouldn't." Foyle started. "To-day to-day "
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