“Off visiting, so Dick says. Oh, but I’m hungry!” cried Sim. “Where is Moselle? You’ll stay to dinner, of course, Harry?”
“Thanks, but I’m afraid I can’t. I want to get in touch with the lawyers on the telephone, and Dr. Thandu, to make sure that there will be no hitch in the plans for Granny’s Christmas party. And I shall probably need to put in calls and wait for answers. I’d be jumping up from the table off and on. No, I’ll go back to the hotel. I can phone nicely from there. But I’ll keep this invitation in reserve, if I may.”
“Of course. Any time. This will keep.”
Terry’s ankle was much improved by morning, though the doctor said she must not yet step on it.
“In another day you may be able to hobble about the house on a cane,” he had said.
“She will be an invalid with a most interesting limp,” declared Dot.
That day Harry telephoned to say that matters connected with the legal aspects of Granny’s case were coming along most satisfactorily.
“You will be able to assure her at the Christmas party,” he told Arden, “that she has the best chance she ever had to get something out of the estate. At any rate, if we fail, she will have the satisfaction of knowing that all that could be done has been done.”
“And if it fails,” asked Arden, “will she and the young folks have to give up hope?”
“I’m afraid so. But it’s better to give up a hope than to have it linger forever, isn’t it?”