“Then—during my mother’s illness there must have been expenses—debts incurred—and——”
“There were expenses, certainly, but there are no debts.”
“I—do not understand.”
“Then let me explain. Margaret here is the medium of correspondence between Mrs. Harcourt and her Washington and Baltimore friends, and this began from her writing a letter for old Moses to his mistress when she was last in Washington.”
“It was very kind of Miss Wynthrop. I heard of it,” said Harcourt.
“Well, she has been in correspondence with a certain lawyer, Amos Merritt, of Washington, who forwards from time to time money for an old debt due by a Baltimorean to your father, and now being paid by installments. The money is sent in checks, made payable to Dorothy Harcourt. She is quite able to write her autograph on the back, and with her indorsement Margaret has got them cashed at the Logwood bank, and has paid doctors’ and druggists’ bills, and also some others. She has all the receipts, if you would like to look at them.”
Harcourt’s face flamed. The idea of his requirement of these receipts from such disinterested benefactors!
“By no means, my dear madam! But since you kindly give me permission, I would like to make some arrangement for my dear mother’s permanent abode with you,” he said.
“Well, talk to Margaret about it. She is my housekeeper, accountant, and everything. Margaret, my dear, take Mr. Harcourt into the office and settle this matter with him. By the time you get through your father and the boys will be in for their dinner.”
“Come, Mr. Harcourt, and see papa’s little office. It used to be called ‘the study,’ but papa never ‘studies,’ he only keeps his farm books there.”