Jack broke out into a forced laugh. Peter had arrived by a short cut! Now he knew, he was a mind reader.
“She won't go,” he answered in a voice that showed he was open to conviction. Peter, perhaps, had something up his sleeve.
“Have you asked her?” The old fellow's eyes were upon him now.
“No,—not in so many words.”
“Well, try it. She has always gone with her father; she loves the outdoor life and it loves her. I never saw her look as pretty as she is now, and she has her horse too. Try asking her yourself, beg her to come along and keep house and make a home for the three of you.”
Jack leaned back in his seat, his face a tangle of hopes and fears. What was Uncle Peter driving at, anyhow?
“I have tried other things, and she would not listen,” he said in a more positive tone. Again the two interviews he had had with Ruth came into his mind; the last one as if it had been yesterday.
“Try until she DOES listen,” continued Peter. “Tell her you will be very lonely if she doesn't go, and that she is the one and only thing in Corklesville that interests you outside of your work—and be sure you mention the dear girl first and the work last—and that you won't have another happy hour if she leaves you in the—”
“Oh!—Uncle Peter!”
“And why not? It's a fact, isn't it? You were honest about Isaac; why not be honest with Ruth?”