“Shall I come with you, Robert?” I asked. The question came from a sudden impulse, arising, I am afraid, more out of a wish to see Maimie than aught else.
“I don’t know why you should not.”
He went out of the room troubled and sad. Jack said, “I am only astonished that Uncle Churton took the trouble to send a telegram at all.”
“Perhaps Maimie made him,” said Cherry.
“I doubt if Maimie has much power to make him do anything. More likely he has a motive of his own.” Then turning to me, Jack asked very softly, “Mother, who will have it all?”
“No one knows,” I said.
“Not Uncle Churton, I hope.”
“I hope not. But we cannot tell yet.”
A little later Robert and I started together. I do not think we two had ever been to “The Gables” in company, since that time when we went to consult Aunt Briscoe about Maimie’s sudden arrival from America. And now Maimie and her stepfather were both at “The Gables;” and poor Aunt Briscoe—was not there.
I fancied Churton would be amazed to see us come in; but he was not. He seemed cordial and cheerful. “He feels sure of his ground, and thinks all is settled now,” flashed across my mind. I do not know whether Robert had the same thought. But it did seem strange to see Churton so cheerful, in that house of death, with its closed blinds. Robert looked depressed; and I felt sad and subdued; while Churton spoke in his loud voice, never attempting to lower it, and invited us into the drawing-room, and gave himself the airs of hospitable owner of the house.