“That depends,” said Mr. Buckley, slightly taken aback, but without submitting an explanation. “You don’t want to bring disgrace on the child by being branded as a jailbird, do you?”
“Nellie won’t have the heart to put me in jail,” groaned the unhappy little man. “She—she 184 just can’t do it. She knows I’d die for her. She––”
“But she isn’t the State of New York,” explained her counsel, briskly. “The State hasn’t anything in the shape of a heart. Now, I’m here to settle the matter without a contest, if that’s possible. If you want to fight, all right. You know just what you’ll get. Besides, isn’t it perfectly clear to you that Miss Duluth doesn’t want to put you in jail? That’s her idea, pure and simple. I don’t mind confessing that our firm insisted for a long time on giving you up to the authorities, but she wouldn’t have it that way. She wants her little girl, that’s all. Isn’t that perfectly fair?”
“She’s—she’s going to give up the house?” murmured Harvey, passing his hand over his eyes.
“Certainly.”
“It’s a mighty inconvenient time for us to—to look for another place––”
“That’s just what I’ve been saying to you,” urged Buckley. “The Weather Bureau says we’ll have zero weather for a month or two. I shudder to think of that poor child out in––” 185
“Oh, Lord!” came almost in a wail from the lips of Phoebe’s father. He covered his face with his hands. Mr. Buckley, unseen, smiled triumphantly.
At four o’clock Phoebe, with all her childish penates, was driven to the station by Mr. Buckley, who, it would appear, had come prepared for the emergency. Before leaving he gave the two servants a month’s wages and a two weeks’ notice dating from the 18th of December and left with Harvey sufficient money to pay up all the outstanding bills of the last month—with a little left over.
We draw a curtain on the parting that took place in the little library just before the cab drove away.