“I have said it,” Carfax returned, with the gentle doggedness which he could assume when the need was sufficiently pressing. “I shall be delighted to be assured that I am mistaken.”
Now came Miss Richardia’s opportunity to fall silent, and she improved it. When she spoke again the playful mockery was laid aside.
“My father was one of the sorriest of the losers in the Ocoee in the promoting period,” she began soberly. “This entire mountain top was once a part of the Birrell estate; my grandfather gave the site for this school. When Mr. Parker was promoting the Ocoee, father went into the plan, heart and soul, giving a large part of the land, and putting all the money he could rake and scrape into the stock of Mr. Parker’s company. Worse than that, he was so firmly convinced of the future success of the undertaking that he persuaded his friends to invest. You mustn’t expect us to be very enthusiastic now, Mr. Carfax. It isn’t in human nature to rejoice when others are preparing to reap where we have sown.”
Carfax’s smile was angel-compassionate.
“Poor Vance isn’t reaping very successfully as yet,” he pointed out. Then he added: “I hope your good father doesn’t feel vindictive toward him. I think we may safely say that Vance is the innocent third party in the transaction—if there ever is such a thing.”
“You don’t know my father; if you did, you would hardly accuse him of vindictiveness, even in your thoughts.”
“Can you say as much for yourself?” asked the accuser gently.
“Indeed, I can!”
“You wouldn’t put a straw in Vance’s way, if you could?”
“I wish you would listen!” she laughed. “Do I look like a—a subterranean plotter, Mr. Carfax?”