“Labor and stern economy imply some strain, and Black is not young. He got tired and knew he soon must stop, but when he did stop he meant to build a corner shop and round off the block. He was not much short of the sum he needed, and although he was ill he carried on. Well, there’s the story!”
Ledward got up and threw his cigarette in the grate.
“It looks as if the company and Carson must meet the bill; but I must call at the newspaper office. We don’t want a disturbing paragraph printed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
CHAPTER XXVII
JASPER WAITS
A servant pushed Jasper’s long chair across the terrace at Netherhall, and stopping at a sunny spot, went off. Across the lawn bare branches tossed, but the buds were breaking, and under the trees daffodils nodded in the wind. Larches, bright with fresh tassels, checkered the dark firs, and a thorn hedge was touched by shining green. A throbbing noise got fainter up the dale, and the car carried a famous surgeon to the train.
The surgeon had visited Netherhall before, but only Jasper knew all he thought; one was frank with Jasper Carson. His face was thin and his body was slack, but he was something of a stoic, and when his glance rested on the group farther along the terrace his eyes twinkled. His relations knew where to leave him alone, and although he imagined they were curious they would wait.
By and by a young woman carried some documents from the house, put a camp stool by the chair, and pulled out a notebook. Jasper studied the documents and dictated one or two letters. Then he said: “Give me your notebook and read Marsden’s letter. Don’t read fast.”
The girl did so, and Jasper, using the pencil awkwardly, covered a page with clumsy curves and strokes.
“Well?” he said and gave her the book. “Can you read the stuff?”
“Oh yes! Your hand is firmer.”