“H’m-m!” said Mr. Dolloway, gruffly, “h’m-m!”
Robert, having devoured all that he could find, now concluded that he was satisfied with his supper, and leaving his place crossed over to the lounge and perched himself beside Mr. Dolloway. “Say, I bet you know who give us that wagon!”
The old fellow fairly jumped. “What’s that you say? What’s that?”
“I said I just bet a sixpence you know who give it to us! I—Ginger! I—Mr. Dolloway—didn’t you do it yourself?”
One could certainly have heard a pin drop, in the silence which succeeded this question. Then the guest cried sharply, “What makes you so much quicker witted than the rest o’ your folks?”
“Mr. Dolloway! Is it possible? Has Robert really guessed the truth?” asked Roland, hurrying to the old man’s side.
“I hain’t nothin’ to say. I hain’t a single thing to say.”
“Just yes or no? Please, just yes or no!”
“Well, s’posin’ I do. What better off will you all be then?”
“This much better, that we shall at length have a chance to thank the real donor. I have tried again and again to make Mr. Brook acknowledge that he was our benefactor, but in that respect he has as steadily denied the charge. But he, too, has intimated that we ought to know who had been good to us. And—I never thought of you! I— Is it you, Mr. Dolloway?”