“Oh!” answered Winifred, “I had several reasons. For one thing, when I first came out feeling very forlorn and friendless, it was Wyllard who sent me to the elevator, and they really treat me very decently.”
“They?” repeated Sproatly with resentment in his face. “If you mean Hamilton, it seems to me that he treats you with an excess of decency that there’s no occasion for.”
Winifred laughed. “In any case, he doesn’t drive me out here every two or three weeks, though”—she glanced at her companion provokingly—“he once or twice suggested that he would like to.”
“I suppose you pointed out his presumption?”
“No,” confessed Winifred with an air of reflection, “I didn’t go quite so far as that. After all, the man is my employer; I had to handle him tactfully.”
“He won’t be your employer a week after the implement people open their new depôt,” returned Sproatly resolutely. “But we’re getting away from the subject. Have you any more reasons for concerning yourself about what Gregory does with Wyllard’s property?”
“I’ve one; I suppose you don’t know who he has left at least a part of it to?”
Sproatly started as an idea crept into his mind.
“I wonder if you’re right,” he said.
“I feel reasonably sure of it.” Winifred smiled. “In fact, that’s partly why I don’t want Gregory to throw any more of Wyllard’s money away. You have done all I expect from you.”