“Quite so. When Mr. Jermyn comes, if he does not advise against it, I will sign.”
“But, Mrs. White! I have reason to know Jermyn is not in Dugonne at present.”
“That is too bad,” said Mrs. White, with real disappointment. “I thought it strange that he returned no reply to the note I sent him last evening.”
It was not strange to Philo Marsh, but he gave no sign that he had ever heard of the message.
“It seems a pity to hold the matter up again, Mr. Marsh,” said Aunt Winnie, calmly. “But I feel that my lawyer should have an opportunity to advise.”
“Mrs. White!” cried Philo Marsh, his wrath getting the better of his judgment, “this is childish. It’s a joke for you, perhaps, but not for me. You promised——”
“Mr. Marsh!” exclaimed Aunt Winnie. “I am not in the habit of being spoken to in such a tone.”
She rose and passed to the door, leaving the two men standing, scowling at each other.
“I am sorry for your disappointment, Mr. Marsh,” proceeded the lady, “but I can no longer discuss this matter—or go on with it at all—until I secure the advice of Mr. Jermyn. Good morning.”
“Bully for Aunt Winnie!” whispered Tavia, on the porch, squeezing Dorothy’s arm.