It took a little more coaxing, however, before Clara would yield. Finally she did so, telling Leslie what she had previously told Doris. Leslie listened without comment, until Clara had wound up her doleful little tale. She sat with one elbow on an arm of her chair, one hand cupping her chin.
“I think my father can find the way to help this man,” she said reassuringly. “Pardon me when I say I believe I know who this man is. I have heard of him often from my father.” She paused, viewing Clara with mute inquiry.
Clara understood. “I—I—it’s Julia’s father,” she stammered. “Perhaps I should not have told you his name. Julia did not ask me not to. But she gave me her confidence. It—”
“It was necessary for me to know,” Leslie cut in with a trace of her old-time brusqueness. “How can my father help a man regain his financial ground unless he knows that man’s identity?” she asked half humorously.
“Well, of course not.” Clara brightened, laughing a little.
“Will you trust the matter to me for a few days, perhaps weeks, Miss Carter?” Leslie asked kindly. “I will write to my father at once. Meanwhile the matter shall be one of strict confidence among us three. I should prefer Miss Peyton never to know the source from which help came to her father through any of us. I believe my father may wish not to be known in the matter, either.”
“You speak with great confidence, Miss Cairns. You are sure something can be done by your father for Mr. Peyton?” Clara asked half doubtfully.
“Very sure,” Leslie repeated encouragingly.
Clara did not remain in Doris’s room long. She went back to her own room to find Julia making a conscientious effort to study.
“I mustn’t neglect what last few opportunities I have,” she said soberly. “I shall try to do well in all my subjects for the rest of the year.”