Amy called to him once, and received a surly answer:—
"I'll go when I get ready. I ain't hurting nobody—yet."
"Of course not, who'd suppose so? I'd think you'd like a run in the woods after hours. There was a frost a few nights ago. There may be hickory nuts to gather."
"Gather 'em, then, if you want 'em. I don't. I've got other fish to fry. I'll fry 'em, too."
"Well, you're cross, 'Fayetty, me gineral.' I'll not wait much longer, even for Hal. You can come home with him, and help him bring the patterns he is to show father, please."
"I thought you wanted to see Mr. Wingate, too, Amy," observed Mary, "about that legacy of yours. You're the queerest girl. Any other would be wild to have things fixed, but you don't seem to care a bit."
"Why should I? We are very comfortable at 'Charity House.' Mrs. Burn, dear Adam's daughter-in-law, has gone abroad again. If she had time, she'd cheerfully help us—if she could. We think the letter of instruction will sometime be found, and that will make all clear. We don't like law, and Adam would have hated it. No; we'll wait for a time longer, but I promised father I'd consult Cousin Archibald, and see when he would meet either father or Uncle Fred to discuss it.
"Meanwhile, old Israel and his wife are doing just the same at Burnside as if their master were still there. All I could think of taking the property for, it seems to me, would be to give my father such a lovely home again."
"Well, Amy, I must go. I want to finish reading that book Mr. Kaye lent me, this afternoon. I'll see you at the club to-night. Good-by."