“That is another thing, Sally,” Courtney Barr interrupted in an almost gentle voice. “You must try to remember not to refer to Mrs. Barr as your mother in the hearing of anyone—anyone! If we are going to protect her, we must begin now.”
“Yes, sir,” Sally bowed her head lower so he might not see her tears.
“Both Mrs. Barr and I will drop casual remarks about my pretty young ward in school down South, until our friends have become accustomed to the idea. You will be registered as Sally Barr, a distant relative of my own, and my ward. It is even probable that it would not be unwise to have you with us for a short time next summer. We have an estate on Long Island, you know.
“As my ward and as my distant relative, you would not be particularly conspicuous, but our friends would meet you casually and be the less surprised when it became known that Mrs. Barr and I had decided to adopt you as our daughter. All our friends and acquaintances know that it has been a great grief to us that we have no children, and I believe our action in this matter would occasion no great surprise. The adoption itself will take place before your eighteenth birthday, while you are still in school. If there is any newspaper publicity, it will be of an innocuous kind, I hope.
“Naturally I shall take care that any newspaper investigation will not be able to go back of the story I shall prepare very carefully, and if there is any hint of scandal at all, it will inevitably reflect on me and not on your mother, as I have already pointed out. After your adoption and your graduation from the finishing school, you will, of course, take your place in our home as our daughter, will make your debut in society that fall, and, I hope, be very happy with us and in your new life.”
Sally sat very still, her eyes wide and blank, while her bewildered, unhappy mind tried to picture the future which Courtney Barr was outlining for her. At last she shook her head, as if to clear away the mists of doubt and bewilderment. Her mother had taken Sally’s little lax, cold hands and was cuddling them against her cheeks, bringing a fingertip to her lips occasionally.
“Poor baby! And—poor mother!” Enid whispered brokenly, and the spell was broken. The hard lump of unhappiness and resentment that had been aching in Sally’s throat since Courtney Barr had begun to speak melted in tears. They wept in each other’s arms, while Enid’s husband walked impatiently up and down the room.
When the storm had spent itself, Sally remembered David again, and pain and fear contracted her heart sharply.
“Did you see David, Mr. Barr?” She sat up and dabbed at her wet cheeks with one of the exquisite sheer linen handkerchiefs which Enid had given her.
“Oh, yes, yes!” Barr answered quickly. “I managed his affairs very neatly. Rand, the district attorney, personally attended to the quashing of the charges against him, and it cost only a thousand dollars to get Carson to issue a statement to the press that he had really seen nothing compromising between young Nash and yourself. He also admitted that the boy’s anger had been in a measure justified, that the assault had been provoked by his own mistaken charges against you and Nash. The boy’s reputation is cleared now and he can go back to college this fall. I also saw his grandfather and persuaded him that the boy had been a hero rather than a blackguard. Young Nash is at home on his grandfather’s farm again, so that incident is successfully closed.”