"Now if you feel like settling the matter out of court—"
"We will go in, and you can say all that before Mr. Day," said Mrs. Carringford firmly. "It seems to me I shall understand it better in front of him."
"Daddy is waiting for you," said Janice urgently. "He has a broken leg so he can't come here to get you," she added looking at the lawyer significantly.
Maybe the fact of this assurance—that Broxton Day was practically helpless physically—led the lawyer to take a chance in the living room. But he was manifestly very ill at ease from the moment he heard Mr. Day's name mentioned.
"Will you oblige me with your name, sir?" said daddy in his ever-courteous way.
The curly-haired man fumbled for a card and finally handed one to
Mr. Day.
"'Mr. Jonas Schrimpe,'" repeated daddy. "Are you practising at the bar here in Greensboro?" "My office is in Napsburg, Mr. Day. Three Forty-two Main Street."
"Ah! Are you acquainted with Mr. Abel Strout?"
"I have nothing to do with Mr. Strout," said the man, rather sharply. "I have already told the lady that. My client is Mrs. Blayne—"
"I understand," said Mr. Day suavely. "I merely asked you a question, Mr. Schrimpe. Do you know Mr. Strout?"