Myra was silent for a full minute, and when she spoke it was out of the depths of a contrite heart.
"I made you believe that, Dick, against your will; and you were right, after all. Mr. Jeffard was only trying to help Connie's poor people through Margaret, though why he should do that when he was withholding a fortune from Uncle Stephen is still a mystery."
"That is as simple as twice two," said the husband. "Didn't I tell you? Garvin had no occasion to tell him who his grub-staker was in the first place, and no chance to do it afterward. Jeffard didn't know,—doesn't know yet."
Myra went silent again, this time for more than a minute.
"I have learned something, too, Dick; but I am not sure that I ought to tell it," she said, after the interval.
"I can wait," said Bartrow cheerfully. "I've had a full meal of double-back-action surprises as it is."
"This isn't a surprise; or it wouldn't be if we hadn't been taking too much for granted. I tolled Connie off to her room with the letter, as I said I would; and she—she had a fit, as you prophesied."
"Of course," says Dick. "It hurts her more than anything to make a miscue on the charitable side."
"Yes, but"—
"But what?"