“That's rotten,” Carter Bruce declared. “I knew there was something wrong about him, hanging around Riverbank when he don't earn enough at Alberson's to pay his laundry. Where is this wife of his? Why does he stay here? He must know you know about him.”
“He does, Carter,” Henrietta said. “He is getting money out of me. That's how he lives. His wife is in Colorado.”
“Money? From you?” said Carter with momentary suspicion. “What hold has he on you?” Henrietta was looking straight into his eyes. “His wife is my daughter,” she prevaricated glibly. “Tubercular. And—don't you see?—with my husband there in Colorado, too, and my poor wage from the school all we have to live upon, that if I say anything we must all starve. They would send me away, Carter. 'No married women need apply.'”
“Ah!” said Carter sympathetically.
“So you will do what you can for Gay—for my sake, even if not for your own?'”
“Yes.”
They walked to Gay's end of the porch.
“He's going to help us, Gay,” Henrietta cried. “He will do all he can for Lem.”
“Carter! You're so good!” Gay cried and clasped his hand for a moment in thanks.'
“That's all right,” he said. “I 'll do all I can. It is not much of a case—not a very serious case—but if I were you and Henrietta I would try my smiles on father first. He likes you both. You have a pull with dad.”