"You will have to reply to the lawyers, though; won't you, daddy?" asked Ruth.
"Oh, yes, I must write to them. I shall state the case plainly, and, though, I have no proof, I shall ask them to drop the suit, as it is an unjust one."
"And if they don't?" suggested Alice.
"If they don't—well, I suppose I shall have to suffer," he replied, quietly. "I cannot raise the money now."
"Oh dear!" cried Alice, half petulantly. "I wish the blizzard was still here!"
"Why, Alice!" cried Ruth.
"Well, I do! Then there wouldn't have been any mail, and daddy wouldn't have received this horrid letter."
"Oh, well, it's best to know the plans of one's enemies," said Mr. DeVere. "Now I know what to expect. I think I shall write to Dan Merley myself, and appeal to his better nature. Surely, even though he was not entirely sober when I paid him the money, he must recall that I did. I confess I do not know whether he is merely under the impression that I did not pay him, or is deliberately telling a falsehood. It is hard to decide," he added, with a sigh.
Mr. DeVere sent a letter to Merley the next day, and a few days later an answer came back from New York, from the same firm of lawyers who had served the legal notice, to the effect that their client had left the matter entirely in their hands, and that the money must be paid. Mr. Merley, the lawyer said, preferred to have no direct communication with Mr. DeVere.
"That settles it! They mean to push the case to the limit!" exclaimed the actor.