“I wish I could tell you, Auntie,” she said, “but I can't. Perhaps you don't need to do anything yet. Mr. Daniels says the idea that that man can force you into selling is ridiculous.”
“I know he does. But I'm a woman, Emily, and what I don't know about law would fill a bigger library than there is in this town by a consider'ble sight. It's always the woman, particularly a widow woman, that gets the worst of it in this kind of thing. I'd feel better if I knew somebody was lookin' out for me. Oh dear, if only Mr. John Kendrick hadn't—”
“Auntie, please.”
“Yes, I know. But it don't seem as if he could act so to me. It don't seem—”
“Hush! It is quite evident he can. Don't say any more.”
“Well, I won't. But what shall I do? Shall I put it all in Mr. Daniels' hands? He says he'll be glad to help; in fact about everybody thinks he is helpin', I guess. Hannah Parker told me—”
“Don't, Auntie, don't. Put it in Mr. Daniels' hands, if you think best. I suppose it is all you can do. Yes, let Mr. Daniels handle it for you.”
“All right. I'll tell him you and I have agreed—”
“No. Tell him nothing of the sort. Don't bring my name into the matter.”
“But, Emily, you don't think I ought to sell—”