At sight of Mrs. Morton, Mr. Gassett removed his hat, which he seemed previously to have forgotten.
“How do you do, Madam, a beautiful winter day. I am sorry to disturb you—I just had a little matter of business with your servant.”
Alice’s eyes flashed at the word servant and Mrs. Morton looked annoyed. Despite her firm belief in class distinctions, she had grown fond of Alice and “servant” seemed unnecessarily offensive. She drew herself up coldly.
“Yes, Mr. Gassett?”
Mr. Gassett opened his errand rather haltingly. Mrs. Morton’s dignity oppressed him.
He had been told, he said, that some stolen stock certificates had been found with the silver, which he understood Alice was keeping under the mistaken idea that she had some claim to them because her father had not endorsed them over to Mr. Gassett personally. The bank had waited some weeks hoping she would find out her mistake and return them to their rightful owner, himself. She had not done so and it was his painful duty to come and demand his property.
Mr. Gassett shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked at Mrs. Morton.
Alice also looked as Mrs. Morton, who motioned her to answer for herself.
“Mr. Gassett, I shall not give up those certificates till you have proved your right to them.”
“But, my girl, don’t you understand those certificates were stolen from my house? I should think my word would be sufficient,” said Mr. Gassett pompously.