“It is not easy to understand men—especially young men,” affirmed Aunt Philomela.
“There isn’t anything to understand, when one is just kind.”
“A great deal more sometimes than when one is merely unkind.”
Miss Van Patten met her aunt’s eyes.
“Aunt,” she declared, “if you could have seen the joy in Daddy’s face you wouldn’t bother yourself with suspicions. We haven’t any right to consider ourselves at all in this matter. We’ve saved father a great grief. Isn’t that enough?”
The aunt shook her head slowly.
“My dear,” she answered, “you’ve been swept on by your emotions. You don’t realize the seriousness of what we’ve done. We’ve taken into the intimacy of our family a stranger—a young stranger, about whom we know nothing. Supposing any of our relatives should swoop down on us from New York? What would they say? What will our friends about here say? What will Dr. Merriweather say?”
The girl answered quietly,
“What does all that matter when you think of what we’ve saved Daddy?”
“Matter? It would mean nothing short of a scandal.”