“I always hate to talk of this because Jack has begged me to be—careful,” continued the woman. “There was a time when the lawyers declared I was crazy, didn’t know what I was talking about, and they even went so far as to try to have a guardian appointed for my Jack. Think of it!” Her eyes snapped little flashes and she sat bolt upright as if preparing to strike at an invisible enemy.
Gloria put her hand out instinctively in a caressing way, and Jane once more pressed the comfort of a good cup of tea, upon the narrator.
“Perhaps I do need it,” admitted the woman. “I get so worked up when I think of those robbing lawyers.”
While a fresh pot of tea was being fetched, Gloria wondered if the fine young man, described by Trixy as being one of the riders with Jack on the early morning trail, could be one of the robbing kind. Mrs. Corday sipped her tea quite daintily, and beyond the extravagance of her attire and the gushing manner, Gloria could see little to find fault with. But then, Gloria was simple in her own tastes, and as Pat would say she “made generous allowance for every one.” It would have been more accurate to say that Gloria merely understood folks better than did the girls bent too closely upon social foibles.
While all this flashed back and forth through Gloria’s mind, the time it took was too brief to count. It was very important for her to acquire some correct estimate of the woman before her, to know, if possible whether to oppose or agree with her idea that the necklace might contain some clue to the hidden gems, if such there were, but one consideration was paramount:
Mrs. Corday should not go up to the Hall and argue her way to Jack. That would be too risky. So Gloria labored to detain her.
The woman finished her tea and again took up the story of the gems. Gloria suppressed more than one smile as she recalled her own and Trixy’s joke about the Pirate’s Daughter, for Jack was now assuming the fanciful character in reality.
“I know you think this is very queer,” said Mrs. Corday, “but you see, show people are always different from other folks.”
“Show people!” exclaimed Jane, pressing her napkin to her lips in consternation.
“Why, yes. Didn’t you understand that? Mr. Corday was the owner of the Great American Equine Show?” The widow seemed to think this fact should have been known to any intelligent American. She extolled the wonders of the show, declared Mr. Corday was one of the biggest men ever connected with any circus; that his troupes were unique in their captivating attractions, and judging from her elaborate descriptions and her extravagant estimate, this big show must have been the loser in not having had Mrs. Corday for its press manager.