A block farther on Eddie met a man who explained the news, which had run
across the town like oil on water. Tim Holdredge, an idle lawyer who had
nothing else to do, looked into the matter of Uncle Loren's will and
found that the old man, in his innocence of charity and his passion for
economy, had left his money to the church on conditions that were not
according to the law. The money reverted to the estate. Eddie was the
estate.
When Tim Holdredge slapped Eddie on the shoulder and explained the
result of what he called "the little joker" in Uncle Loren's will, Eddie
did not rejoice, as Tim had a right to expect.
Eddie was poisoned by a horrible suspicion. The logic of events ran
through his head like a hateful tune which he could not shake off:
"When Luella thought I was coming into a pile of money she was nice to
me. When she heard I wasn't she was mean to me. Now that my money's
coming to me, after all, she's nice again. Therefore--" But he was
ashamed to give that ungallant _ergo_ brain room.
Still more bewildering was the behavior of Ellaphine. As soon as he
heard of his good fortune he hurried to tell her about it. Her mother
answered the door-bell and congratulated him on his good luck. When he
asked for Ellar, her mother said, "She was feelin' right poorly, so
she's layin' down." He was so alarmed that he forgot about Luella, who
waited the whole afternoon all dressed up.
After supper that night he patrolled before Ellaphine's home and tried
to pluck up courage enough to twist that old door-bell again. Suddenly
she ran into him. She was sneaking through the front gate. He tried to
talk to her, but she said:
"I'm in a tur'ble hurry. I got to go to the drug-store and get some
chloroform liniment. Mamma's lumbago's awful bad."
He walked along with her, though she tried to escape him. The first
drowsy lamp-post showed him that Ellaphine had been crying. It was the
least becoming thing she could have done. Eddie asked whether her mother
was so sick as all that. She said "No"--then changed to "Yes"--and then
stopped short and began to blubber uncouthly, dabbing her eyes
alternately with the backs of her wrists.
Eddie stared awhile, then yielded to an imperious urge to clasp her to
his heart and comfort her. She twisted out of his arms, and snapped,
"Don't you touch me, Eddie Pouch!"