"Owns it, too, I think," said Farvie. "They told me so at the news-stand."
"Well," said Choate pointedly, "it's said Miss Amabel owns it."
"Then," said Jeff, including her abruptly, "you've the whip-hand. You can get Moore out of it. What's he in it for anyway? Did you have to take him over with the business?"
Miss Amabel was plainly grieved.
"Now why should you want to turn him out of it?" she asked, really of Choate who had started the attack. "Mr. Moore is a very able young man, of the highest ideals."
Jeff laughed. It was a kindly laugh. Anne was again sure he loved Miss Amabel.
"I can't see Moore changing much after twenty-five," he said to Choate, who confirmed him briefly:
"Same old Weedie."
"Mr. Moore is not popular," said Miss Amabel, with dignity, turning now to Farvie. "He never has been, here in Addington. He comes of plain people."
"That's not it, Miss Amabel," said Choate gently. "He might have been spawned out of the back meadows or he might have been—a Bracebridge." He bowed to her with a charming conciliation and Miss Amabel sat a little straighter. "If we don't accept him, it's because he's Weedon Moore."