“Has it ever occurred to you,” suggested Judith quietly, “that there is such a thing as law, and that the law will take the conduct of my uncle’s affairs out of your hands, if I appeal to it? If you really wish a home in your old age, Elaine, you must give up your autocratic ideas. The Darings are the natural inheritors of this homestead, and you have no personal rights here except as a servant.”
“I’m entitled to my wages, then,” snapped Elaine. “They haven’t been paid for years.”
Judith regarded her thoughtfully. In spite of the peculiar temperament of this poor creature she was doubtless of inestimable worth to Mr. Eliot at this juncture. No one else could or would care for the helpless invalid, half so well. And there was little to advance against that argument of unpaid wages. Perhaps, after all, it might be better to compromise with Elaine Halliday.
“I am willing to admit your responsible position here,” she said, “provided you do not attempt to dictate too far. Live your life in your own way, but do not attempt to interfere with us. I am now going to establish myself in one of those hall rooms.”
She rose.
“Take the west room, then,” suggested Elaine, eagerly. “It’s bigger, and the east room is cluttered with old furniture.”
Judith walked away without reply, content with her victory but filled with many perplexing thoughts. The interview had somewhat astonished her.
Elaine watched her go, and when Judith had turned the corner of the house the old woman stamped her foot furiously.
“Drat the law!” she muttered. “Ferguson swore he’d turn me out if I didn’t let the Darings in, and now this girl threatens the law if I won’t let her have that room. Law! What mischief-makers invented the law, I’d like to know—to rob a poor woman and beat her out of her just dues? But there’s two kinds of law in this world—the laws others make, and the laws we make, ourselves. I guess the law of Elaine Halliday will win out in the long run, because my law’s my secret, and they’ve only got their own to go by.”
With this somewhat ambiguous tirade she turned and slowly mounted the stairs. Gran’pa Eliot sat exactly as he had before, staring vacantly through the window.