“That is the funny part of it.” Tom started on another basin as he talked, and this one being rather badly cracked, he handled it in a gingerly fashion. “It seems that the old man knows you, and it is through that he found out where I lived.”
“Well, I haven’t the pleasure of his acquaintance, so it is a rather one-sided sort of knowledge,” said Bertha, poking a pile of plates into the dish pan and using the mop vigorously.
“Just so, but there are similar cases on record,” answered Tom. “For instance, you and I know the German Emperor, the President of the United States, not to speak of the King of England, yet none of these gentlemen have the slightest knowledge of us. It is the penalty of greatness to be known and not to know.”
“Don’t you think it would be quicker to tell me plain out what you mean, instead of talking in riddles?” asked Bertha, with an air of exasperation; then she said, with a little jump of amazement which made the dishes rattle, “Was that old man who was taken ill in the train when I was coming here your Uncle Joe? What an astonishing coincidence!”
“Just what I thought,” remarked Tom dryly. “But it is the sort of coincidence that I could do without, seeing how the old fellow contrived to upset Grace, who has enough to bear without stings of this sort being added on to her load. It is rather curious, though, the old man was always taunting me with wanting his money when I lived with him, and now that he has lost it all, or nearly all, he takes the trouble to look me up to see if I can help him.”
“But why did he not stay to see you, or at least wait until I came back?” asked Bertha.
“I expect he thought there was not enough chance of getting what he wanted,” said Tom, “though Grace said that he told her he might give us a look in on his way back from Rotten Edge. He asked Grace if I could lend him five hundred dollars for six months, but she told him that the visit of the specialist had made us so poor that we should have our hands full to keep out of debt until the wheat was sold.”
“Does Grace know how much that cost? Oh, I thought that you did not mean to tell her!” cried Bertha, in a reproachful tone.
Tom shrugged his shoulders and wiped away energetically, then remarked, “Grace always could turn me inside out. You see, I am no match for her in point of cleverness, and when she wants to know a thing she mostly gets her own way. I told her that it did not matter to her, and that if it had cost twice as much, I would still have had the specialist.”
“What did she say to that?” asked Bertha, laughing a little; for well she knew that Tom was quite right when he said that he was no match for Grace, who always seemed to twist him round her little finger.