“I can pay for anything else I need out of my allowance,” she went on.
An unusual wave of generosity engulfed Obadiah, due, no doubt, to pricks of his unquiet conscience. “Don’t do that,” he objected. “Send the bills to me.”
A delighted Virginia lifted up her voice, joyously, “How perfectly grand! I’ll order ice cream for everybody.”
Pain rested upon Obadiah’s countenance, due, no doubt, rather to a twinge of indigestion at the mention of a large quantity of ice cream during the breakfast hour than to regret at the result of his unusual liberality. He sought relief in reproving Ike sternly, ere departing for his office.
Virginia spent a busy morning. She telephoned to Colonel Ryan, visited Mrs. Henderson and conferred at length with Mrs. Smith, the matron at the Lucinda Home, regarding the approaching festivities.
Later, she repaired to the establishment of Mr. Vivian, glittering brilliantly in the morning sun and graced even at this early hour by thirsty members of South Ridgefield’s younger set.
Her deliberations with the genial proprietor were prolonged. Complex factors hindered the meeting of minds regarded as essential to the contractual relationship of commerce. Mr. Vivian’s knowledge of the law of probabilities as applied to the consumption of ice cream and cake by infants, by adults, or by infants and adults together, was as deep as the information of an insurance actuary on the mortality of fellow men. But specialists gain their reputation through years of toil, and they object to risking it on the uncertain. To Mr. Vivian the capacity of old ladies and aged soldiers for delicate confections was an unknown factor. He had no digest of leading cases to consult, no vital statistics to inspect, no medical journals to study. He was venturing into unexplored territory. Without premises he was asked to deduct a conclusion. Mr. Vivian was reduced to an unscientific guess.
Yet, if necessary, guesses can be made. So it came to pass that Mr. Vivian bowed the manufacturer’s daughter from his emporium, and, with the sweet smell of his wares in his nostrils, raised eyes of loving kindness from the profitable order in his hand, due account thereof to be rendered unto Obadiah for payment, and gazed after her in respectful admiration.
Shortly after this, the judicial solemnity of the chamber of Hezekiah Wilkins, Attorney at Law, situate and being, opposite the suite of Obadiah, was disturbed by a timid knock. It failed to attract Hezekiah’s attention. This was strange. The room was not unusually large. Also, its size was diminished by cases of reports, digests and encyclopedias covering the walls, except where they were pierced by the windows and door or broken by the fireplace and its broad chimney face. Upon this hung a picture of the Supreme Court and on the mantel below stood a bust of John Marshall, the stern eyes of which viewed the polished back of Hezekiah’s head as he sat at his desk.
It is possible that the lawyer was preoccupied through profound consideration of some abstract point of law. Before him lay an open court report and his desk was littered with documents. His head was bowed forward, his hands clasped over his abdomen and his eyes closed.