“No, she didn't. She pretended to, but she didn't. There wasn't any such 'Band.' She was helping me to cure Mother, that's all. It was all part of the plan. Her husband understands now, although,” with a laugh, “he didn't when he first came.”
Daniel drew his hand across his forehead.
“Well!” he exclaimed. “WELL! and I—and I—”
“I treated you dreadfully, didn't I? Scolded you, and told you to go away, and—and everything. I COULDN'T tell you the truth, because you cannot keep a secret, but I was sorry, so sorry for you, even when you were most provoking. You WOULD interfere, you know. Two or three times you almost spoiled it all.”
“Did I? I shouldn't wonder. And—and to think I never suspicioned a bit of it!”
“I don't see why you didn't. It was so plain. I'm sure Mother suspects—now.”
“Probably she does. If I wasn't what I've called myself so much lately, an old fool, I'd have suspected, too. I AM an old fool.”
“No, you're not. You are YOU, and that is why I love you—why, everyone who knows you loves you. I wouldn't have you changed one iota. You are the dearest, best father in the world. And you are going to be happy now, aren't you?”
“I—I don't know. I ought to be, I suppose. I guess I shall be—if I ever get over thinkin' what a foolhead I was. So Zuba was part of it all, hey? And John, too? He was in it, I presume likely.”
Gertrude's expression changed; so did her tone.