Claire "took" to the newcomer at once, predisposed in his favor by a certain shadow of resemblance she saw, or thought she saw, to a friend of her youth, a certain Bob Van Brandt who, once upon a time, had laid his heart at her feet. There was the same manly frankness, the same touch of boyish impetuosity. She wondered if there were the same fatal lack of determination.
What time she pondered, her husband was harking back to otherwhiles, when a Ballard had lived in the neighborhood.
"My grandfather," the young man said quite simply. "He was bailiff, as they called it in those days, to Squire Stryker."
Frank Ronald liked that. It rang true.
Martha was not listening to the conversation. Her mind was full of the thought that now she could conscientiously go honeymooning with Sam.
"It wouldn'ta been right to take the money outa the little we got saved," she ruminated. "That's gotta stay where it is, no matter what. But if I do the curtain-job, I'll have my own cash. I can go with my own man, an' I wouldn't call the queen my cousin."
When, at length, the Ronalds took leave, Dr. Ballard, lingering, said:
"I'm in a hole, Mrs. Slawson." He paused, hesitated, then colored. "I say I'm in a hole—really it's Miss Crewe. My difficulty is, I want to help her out, and, up to date, haven't been able. Madam Crewe is fretting herself into a fever because the fruit on the place is going to waste. Confound it! She's making Miss Crewe's life miserable, teasing her to 'do it up.' Miss Crewe doesn't know how to do it up, she tells me, and, there you are!"
"What about Eunice Youngs? The girl I got to accommodate for'm, at four dollars per," inquired Mrs. Slawson.
The doctor laughed. "Nothing doing, I gather, else Miss Crewe wouldn't be in so deep. This morning I managed to kidnap her—Miss Crewe, not Eunice. Took her for a drive. She needs fresh air and change. I took her to Mrs. Peckett's, because I knew Mrs. Peckett boasts she's the best housekeeper in New England."