“They were all true, and he knows it,” answered Katharine, stubbornly.
She leaned against the chest of drawers, and looked down into her mother’s upturned face.
“Oh, no! they weren’t all true, dear,” protested the latter. “You exaggerated very much. It’s quite possible that your father may have saved something in all these years—he’s so careful! But as for having a million, as you said—”
“But, dear mother—there isn’t a doubt of it! I didn’t promise uncle Robert that I wouldn’t tell that—”
“What? Did uncle Robert tell you?”
“Yes! Of course! Did you suppose I was inventing?”
“Well—not exactly. But I thought you might have heard some gossip—or something Jack Ralston said—”
“Not at all. Uncle Robert told me that he knew it to be a positive fact—a million, at least, he said. And he’s quite as truthful as papa—”
“More so,” said Mrs. Lauderdale, absently; “I mean,” she added, very quickly, with a frightened look, for she had not realized what she was saying—“I mean—quite as truthful. They’re both perfectly truthful—”
“Yes,” answered Katharine in a doubtful tone, and smiling in spite of herself. “Not but that, if it came to believing, you know, I’d believe uncle Robert sooner than papa—”