"You have been an important person in my thoughts this fall," said the young man, as he handed her the thimble, "for you can tell me of my father."
Jack looked thoughtfully at his cigar, and Aunt Love, from her neighboring chair, looked at him.
"I will tell you," she said, after waiting a moment to see if her guest wished to proceed. "I will tell you everything I can. Do you want to ask me questions, or shall I just talk to you a little?"
"I want to know just how ill he was through the summer. I was deliberately kept in the dark."
Miss Berry was alert to perceive the resentment in the quiet tone.
"He wasn't ill at all. Not so to say real sick," she replied. "His head didn't feel quite right after that light shock he got in the spring, and he thought he was takin' every precaution by comin' out of all the excitement of his busy life, right to this farm. The doctor said it was just the best thing he could do; and Mrs. Van Tassel"—
"Then he was not confined to his bed here?"
"No, indeed. Not a day. He had a steamer chair out under the big elm, and it never seemed to fret him a bit to be idle; and his wife"—
"He used to write me from under that tree," said Jack thickly.
"Yes, indeed he did; and he liked to be read to, and to play backgammon; and whenever Mrs. Van Tassel"—