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"What's this?" says Tom, staring at it blankly. "Ye won't blame me, Mac," answers Mr. Jarrott, somewhat ashamed of his role of process-server. "'Tain't none of my doin's." "Read it, Davy," said Tom, giving it to me. I stopped the mill, and, unfolding the paper, read. I remember not the quaint wording of it, save that it was ill-spelled and ill-writ generally.
"The fact is, I'm worried to death," she wrote, confidentially "and you must help me to see daylight through this tangled mass of everybody saying different things. Aunt Queenie has gone completely back on Herbert, just because Uncle Jarrott has. That doesn't strike me as very loyal, I must say. I shouldn't think it right to desert anybody, unless I wanted to.
"He's so taken up with Mrs. Endsleigh Jarrott that he hasn't looked this way. I don't think he's any member of the family." "He must be," Wayne replied. "I know his voice. I have some association with it, but just what I can't remember." Miriam herself listened to hear him speak, catching only an irrelevant word or two. "He sounds English," she said then. "No, he isn't English.
Still a few weeks were to pass, and it was early in the new year before Uncle Jarrott's cablegram arrived with the three words, "If you like." Miriam received the information at the opera, where she had been suddenly called on to take the place of Miss Jarrott, laid low with "one of her headaches."
"Very well; I'd go," the old man said, quietly. Strange left his cards that afternoon at the house just when he knew Mrs. Jarrott would be resting and Miss Jarrott driving with Miss Colfax. At seven he took the night boat up the Plata to the Parana. "Evie, what do you think made Mr. Strange rush away like that? Your uncle says he didn't have to that he might just as well have stayed in town."
Jarrott was delaying his departure for Rosario purposely, to keep him near. It was certain that into the old man's bearing toward him there had crept something that might almost be called paternal, so that their business discussions were much like those between father and son. Mrs.
I'm the legal adviser to the firm, but I've nothing to do with the private affairs of their employees." "Mr. Jarrott is very fond of Mr. Strange " "Perhaps this will cool his affection." "I don't think it will as long as Evie insists on marrying him. I'm sure they mean to stand by him." "They won't be able to stand by him long, if the law gives him what it meant to give him before."
"Then she probably told you about the house." "The house? What house?" "The house they've asked me to take for the winter for Miss Jarrott and her." The tea-things came, giving her the relief of occupation. She said nothing for the moment, and her attention seemed concentrated on the rapid, silent movements of her own hands among the silver and porcelain.
Jarrott himself, who had unexpectedly invited his intelligent employee to lunch with him at a club, in order to talk over a commission with which Strange was to be intrusted. On this occasion he was able to stammer his way out of the invitation; but when later, Mr.
Jarrott is in mourning; and when those dear to me are in mourning I always feel that I'm in mourning, too. I'm like that. I never can tell why it is, but I'm like that. My sister-in-law has just lost her sister-in-law. Of course that's no relation to me, is it? And yet I feel as if it was. I've always called Mrs. Colfax my sister-in-law, and I've taught her little girl to call me Aunt Queenie.
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