"What sort of person is this Mr. Lambert?"
Serviss pondered, "He's a small, mild-mannered man—not unlike a nice, thoughtful country doctor in appearance."
"I wish he were six feet high, and fierce as his inches," said Kate.
"If he had been that, this preacher fellow would never have been able to run away with his family." He sighed. "Well, he's all we have to conjure with. If he fails us we must resort to craft."
"I wish we could get Viola and her mother here. Would they come to dinner if I should ask them? If we could get them here once we might be able to persuade them to stay."
"That would not save her from the pillory in which Pratt and Clarke design to set her. We must be careful not to anger them. The girl hates and fears Pratt."
"I know she does."
"His air of proprietorship is fairly indecent. We must be especially careful not to rouse him. He has millions to use in asserting his claims, and is as vindictive as a wolf."
Kate sat in silence for a few moments—a very unusual state with her—and at last announced her purpose. "Leave the whole thing to me. We will have Dr. Weissmann, and I will ask Clarke to come to meet you in order to talk over his plans for a committee. I'll just ignore Pratt. He's nothing but an old kill-joy, anyway."
"He's worse than that. Don't brush him the wrong way. We're going to have trouble with him before we are out of this."