"I don't see it at all."
"There we are again, so you will have to take the courtesy and I'll have the dignity and charm. I haven't a doubt but if we knew Mr. Jeffreys better we should find a host of other things."
"He is not sympathetic in the way Berk is."
The paper-cutter was at work again. "No-o," Linda admitted, "he doesn't seem to be, but perhaps he really is, inside."
"Then I don't see what use it is to anyone. Berk shows that quality in his eyes. He has dear eyes, I think."
Linda neither affirmed nor denied though she suddenly remembered the eager, tender look bestowed upon her that day in the postoffice when she gave back the newspaper after reading her little poem in it. "We certainly have discussed those two long enough," she said lightly. "How their ears must burn. What next, Aunt Ri?"
"I've been thinking I'd like to get some facts for you from some other source than Wyatt Jeffreys. There's our old family lawyer, Judge Goldsborough, who was your family's lawyer as well. He retired from active life long ago, and is a very old man now, but I believe he could tell us things. He knew your grandfather and all that. Some day we will go to see him. We'll make it an ancestral pilgrimage. He lives up in the next county where his son has a fine estate. On the way we can take in that old church where my grandparents were married; they were Roman Catholics, you see, and I have always wanted to see that old church. How do you like the idea of such a trip?"
"Immensely. You are very clever to have thought of it, Aunt Ri."
"Then some Saturday we will go. The judge will be delighted to see you, and me, too, I am not too modest to say. He is a dear old man and, though his memory is not what it was, the way back things are those he remembers the best. Now go to bed. We've talked long enough. Go to bed."