"Is it the same old story?" she inquired.
"Yes, grandmother. I don't feel that I can wait."
"Electra," said the old lady kindly, "I can't listen to you. It's all fudge and nonsense. If we talk about it any more, we shall be insane together. Don't go, Billy."
"I should like to put it before Mr. Stark," said Electra, with her clear gaze upon him, as if she summoned him to some exalted testimony.
Billy stirred uneasily in his chair. He had confided to Florrie the night before that Electra's hypothetical cases made him as nervous as the devil. Madam Fulton cast him a comical look. It had begun to occur to her that a ball, once rolling, is difficult to stop.
"Go ahead, then," she agreed. "I wash my hands of it. Billy, keep a tight grip on yourself. You'll die a-laughing."
Then Electra stated her case; but Billy did not laugh. Like Peter, he looked at her frowningly, and owned he did not understand. Electra stated it again, and this time he repeated the proposition after her. Madam Fulton sat in a composed aloofness and made no comment.
"But, my dear young lady," said Billy Stark, "you quite misunderstand. An extract from a letter has no legal value compared with a document signed and sealed in proper form."
"I know," said Electra, "not legal, but—" She was aware that Madam Fulton's eye was upon her and she dared not finish. "It was at least my grandfather's expressed wish," she concluded firmly. "I shall carry it out."
"But—" Billy sought about for a simile, "my dear child,"—Electra, in the weakness of her lofty reasoning, seemed to him pathetically to be protected,—"don't you see you're putting yourself through all kinds of discomfort for nothing, simply nothing? You've gone and got a big sword—you call it justice—to cut a thread. Why, it's not even that. There's nothing, absolutely nothing there. It's very admirable of you"—Electra's waiting attitude quickened at this—"but it's fantastic."