"Do—always, if you can. And remember me to Miss Flower and to Billy Foot; and tell them that I am"—she seemed to seek a word, but ended lamely—"very well, please."
Andy nodded. She wanted them to know that her courage was not broken.
On his way out he met Wellgood again, moodily sauntering in the drive by the lake.
"Well, what do you think of her?" Wellgood asked abruptly.
"She's feels it terribly, but she's taking it splendidly."
Wellgood nodded emphatically, saying again, "I never thought she had such pluck."
"I should think, you know," said Andy, in his candid way, "that you could help her a bit, Mr. Wellgood. It does her no good to be taken over it again and again. Least said, soonest mended."
Wellgood looked at him suspiciously. "I'm not going back on my terms."
"Wait and see if they are accepted. Let him alone till then. She'd thank you for that."
"I want to help her," said Wellgood. His tone was rather surly, rather ashamed, but it seemed to carry a confession that he had not helped his daughter much in the past. "You're right, Hayes. Let's be done with the fellow for good, if we can!"