“No, I cannot with any reasonable degree of probability,” Harcourt replied.
“Well, I have a check, received this morning, to acknowledge. I will ‘take this opportunity,’ as our grandparents used to write in the beginning of their letters, to let Mr. Merritt and ‘the power behind the throne’ know that you are here. And now,” continued the girl, turning to the writing-desk, unlocking the drawer, and taking from it a sealed envelope, “here are all the receipts for money expended for the benefit of Mrs. Harcourt.”
“I beg that you will keep them. I do not wish to see them,” pleaded the young man.
“But why not? You will hereafter transact your mother’s business.”
“No,” said Harcourt, “I cannot. I must go away again in a very few days. Pray, Miss Wynthrop, continue your work of Christian love. Be still the trustee and guardian of this poor lady, for a time at least. It may not be long,” pleaded Harcourt.
“Why should you think it necessary to be so very emphatic? I shall take pleasure in caring for Mrs. Harcourt just so long as she has need and I have power.”
“Oh! thank you! And continue to expend those checks and the checks that I will send you also, for her necessities, including the cost of her board and lodging, fixing the latter according to your own judgment and pleasure. Oh! I loathe to speak to you of money matters!”
“But why should you dislike to do so? It is necessary. I will do as you wish, and give the result of my figuring before you leave us.”
Margaret Wynthrop drew a small silver watch from her pocket and consulted it.
“It is our dinner hour, and mamma will be waiting. We had better return to the house now,” she said, as she replaced her timepiece. Then she locked the desk and left the room, followed by Harcourt.