Dick Torrington was out when Fox called at his office, early that
afternoon. They were expecting him at any moment. He had not come back
from lunch yet. He did not usually stay so long and wouldn't Doctor
Sanderson take a seat and wait a few minutes? Accordingly, Doctor
Sanderson took a seat and waited a few minutes. He waited a good many
minutes. He read the paper through; then paced slowly up and down the
waiting-room. Were they sure Mr. Torrington would come back? Oh, yes,
they thought so. They did not know what could be keeping him. So
Doctor Sanderson thought he would wait a few minutes longer.
The truth was that it was Henrietta who was keeping Dick away from his
office and his waiting clients. As she was to go within a few days,
Dick thought the time propitious for taking her for a last sleigh
ride; it might happen to be the last and it might not. Henrietta, too,
thought the time propitious. I don't know what Fox would have thought,
if he had known it. Most likely he would have grinned and have said
nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was an adept at keeping
his thoughts to himself. But there is reason to believe that he would
not have waited. Just as his patience was utterly exhausted and he was
going out, Dick came in. There was a rather shamefaced grin of
pleasure on his face which changed to a welcoming smile when he saw
Fox. It was a very welcoming smile; more welcoming than the occasion
seemed to call for. Fox wondered at it. But he was not to find out the
reason that day.
They came to business at once. Dick was the executor, but he had not
notified the beneficiaries under the will yet. It was really a very
short time since Mr. Hazen's death. Fox, wondering what that had to do
with the matter, protested mildly that the only question with him was
whether he could buy certain properties of the estate. He would prefer
to deal with Dick rather than with Miss Patty.
Dick laughed. "Oh," he said, "I forgot that you didn't know. Those
pieces of property that you are after--I know very well what they
are," he interrupted himself to say, "and I can guess what you want
them for--those pieces of property were left to Sally. I shall have to
refer you to her."
Fox's amazement was comical. "Left to Sally!" he exclaimed. "Well! And
it never occurred to me."
"It probably has never occurred to Sally either," Dick suggested. "She
has more than that. Her uncle John was very fond of her."
"I am sure that it has not occurred to Sally. What will Miss Patty
think?"
Dick shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Nobody does. I don't
know just how she feels toward Sally. If it were Charlie, now,--but it
isn't. About these properties, you will have to see Sally. She isn't
at liberty to dispose of them yet, but if she agrees to, there will be
no difficulty. I shall not stand in the way of your doing anything you
want to do with them. It happens that the lease of them runs out in a
few months. I really don't believe that Miss Patty will contest the
will, even if she doesn't just like it. Mr. Hazen's word was the law,
you know."
Fox was looking out of the window and, as he looked, his glance
chanced to fall upon Miss Patty herself, stepping along in a way which
she had fondly flattered herself was dainty.
He smiled. "You never can tell about these nervous patients," he
observed. "They may do anything--or they may not. But I think I'd
better see Sally and break the news."
He found the chance on the evening of that same day. Everett went
out, immediately after dinner, as was his habit, and Mrs. Morton left
them alone. Sally was reading.
"Sally," said Fox, "I understand that you are an heiress."
Sally put down her book suddenly and gave him a startled glance. "Oh,"
she exclaimed, "I hope not! Who told you?"
"Dick Torrington. He is the executor."
"Oh, Fox!" she cried. She seemed dismayed. "And Dick knows. But Patty
will never forgive me. Can't I help it?"
"No doubt," he replied, smiling, "but I hope you won't, for I want to
buy some of your property."
She laughed joyously. "I'll give it to you, you mercenary man! At
last, Fox, I can get even with you--but only partly," she hastened to
add; "only partly. Please say that you'll let me give it to you."
Fox was embarrassed. "Bless you, Sally!" he said. At that moment, he
was very near to heeding Mrs. Ladue's injunction not to wait too long.
He stopped in time. "Bless you, Sally! You have paid me. I don't need
money anyway."
"Neither do I."
"The time may come when you will. It is a handy thing to have," he
went on. "I promise to let you pay me some day," he added hastily,
seeing that she was about to insist, "in kind."
Sally nodded with satisfaction. "I'll do it," she said, "in kind. That
usually means potatoes and corn and firewood, doesn't it."
"Not this time, it doesn't. But I can't let you think of giving me
these places."
"You can't help my thinking of giving them to you," she interrupted.
"For you don't even know what they are," Fox continued. "I didn't mean
to tell you yet, but I have to." And he told her what he wanted to do;
but only a part. It is to be noted that he said nothing about
gynesauruses and coal-trees.
When he had finished Sally sighed. "It's too bad that I can't give
them to you, Fox. I think it would be a very good way; an excellent
way."
"Excellent?" he asked.
"Yes, excellent," Sally answered, looking at him and smiling in her
amused way. "Why isn't it?"
"Nonsense! It's absurd; preposterous. It's positively shocking. Sally,
I'm surprised at you."
Sally shook her head. "No," she said obstinately, "it's an excellent
way to do. You can't say why it isn't. Why, just think, then I should
feel that I could come there when I am old or when I break down from
overwork. Teachers are apt to break down, I understand, and now, when
they do, there seems to be no course open to them but to hire a
hearse--if they've saved money enough. Think how much easier I should
feel in my mind if Sanderson's Retreat were open to me." And Sally
chuckled at the thought.
"But Sanderson's Retreat would be open to you in any case," Fox
protested. "You would not have to hire a hearse. It is my business to
prevent such excursions. Have I ever failed you, Sally?"
"Oh, Fox, never." There were tears in her eyes as she got up quickly
and almost ran to him. "Never, never, Fox. That is why, don't you see?
I want to do something for you, Fox. You have done so much for me--for
us."
He was standing by the fire. As she came, he held out his hands and
she gave him both of hers. Ah! Doctor Sanderson, you are in danger of
forgetting your resolution; that resolution which you thought was so
wise. In truth, the words trembled on the tip of his tongue. But
Sally's "for us" brought him to his senses.
"Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said ruefully. "You don't know. You don't
know."
"Well," Sally replied impatiently, after she had waited in vain for
some moments for him to finish, "what don't I know? I don't know
everything. I am aware of that, and that is the first step to
knowledge."
"You come near enough to it," he returned, as if speaking to himself.
He was looking down, as he spoke, into great gray eyes which, somehow,
were very soft and tender. He looked away. "Sometime you will know."
"Everything?" asked Sally, smiling.
"Everything that is worth knowing," he answered gently. "Yes,
everything that is worth knowing," he repeated, slowly.
Sally pondered for a brief instant; then flushed a little, but so
little that you would scarcely have noticed it, especially if you had
been looking away from her, as Fox was at some pains to do.
"We have not settled that question, Fox," she said. He still held her
hands, but he scarcely glanced at her. "Fox,"--giving him a gentle
shake,--"pay attention and look at me." He looked at her, trying not
to let his eyes tell tales. Very likely Sally would think they told of
no more than the brotherly affection which she had become used to,
from him. Very likely that was what she did think. She gave no sign
that she saw more than that, at any rate. "_Please_ let me give them
to you," she pleaded, eagerly. "I want to."
He shook his head. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said again. "It is hard
enough to refuse you anything; but I can't let you do this, for your
own sake. What would people think?"
"Oh, fiddle! What business is it of theirs? And how would they know
anything about it?"
"I have no doubt there are some who would at once institute inquiries.
You probably know such people."
Sally chuckled. "Letty Lambkin might. But what would it matter if they
did?"
"I should hate to think that I was responsible for making you talked
about."
"Then you won't take them, Fox? Not even if I get down on my knees?"
Again there were tears in her eyes.
Fox shook his head. "I can't," he said gently. "I can't take them on
those terms."
Sally sighed and smiled. "So I am repulsed, then. My gifts are
spurned."
Fox was very uncomfortable. "But, Sally--" he began.
She brightened suddenly. "I know!" she cried. "I'll lease them to you
for ninety-nine years. Isn't that what they do when they can't do
anything else? And you'll have to pay--oh, ever so much rent."
He laughed. "All right. I guess that'll be as long as I shall have use
for them. But you'll have to charge me enough."
"Oh, I'll charge you enough," she said nodding; "never fear. I'll
consult Dick and take his advice. _Then_ perhaps you'll be satisfied."
"I'll be satisfied," he replied. "I'm very grateful, Sally."
"Nonsense! You're not. You're only complacent because you think you've
had your own way, and I didn't mean that you should have it." She took
her hands away at last. "Here's Mrs. Morton," she said gently.