Just before bedtime that night Mr. Hamilton broached a subject which had troubled him all day.
“Shadrach,” he said, timidly. “I—I guess I ought to tell you somethin'. I know you won't want to talk about it, but seems 's if I must tell you. I had a letter this morning from Judge Baxter. He says he can't wait much longer for an answer from us about Marcellus's girl. He's got to know what we've decided to do with her.”
Shadrach, who was smoking, took his pipe from his mouth.
“Well, give him the answer then,” he said, shortly. “You know what 'tis, well as I do.”
Zoeth looked troubled.
“I know you don't want to keep her,” he said, “but—”
“Who said I didn't?”
“Who? Why, Shadrach Gould! You said—”
“I said a good many things maybe; but that's nothin'. You knew what I meant as well as I did.”
“Why, Shadrach! You—you don't mean you ARE willin' to keep her—here, with us, for good? You don't mean THAT?”