“And what was it?”
He looked round, then got up, went to the door, and coming back again sat down and spoke in a lower voice: “You don’t know little Bethany’s origin?”
“No, except that her mother was a lady.”
“Well, I do. Mrs. Tingsby was very much excited at the time the Judge took her, and little by little I got the whole story from her. Bethany’s father was a scamp, a semi-criminal, or possibly a whole one. He was of good stock, though. Her mother was a Hittaker.”
“Of Hittaker’s soap?”
“The same. There were two Hittaker brothers. One made money, the other didn’t. Bethany’s grandfather was the unfortunate one. However, his rich brother helped him during his lifetime. But he wouldn’t help his children, who are now all dead. The rich Hittaker is about as mean a man that ever lived. He was only good to his own. Now, what do you think I found in the New York papers?”
“Something about the Hittakers, of course,” replied Mrs. Everest.
“Just so. A week ago a terrible accident occurred to old Hittaker’s daughter, her husband, and children. His son-in-law came from Canada, and he had taken his wife and children home on a visit. They went sleighing; the ice was rotten on a river or lake—I forget which—that they crossed, or, rather, I believe it was an airhole they got into. To tell the truth, I read the thing in such a hurry lest Smalley should come upon me that I don’t remember the details. Anyhow, they were all drowned—Hittaker’s daughter, her husband, and children.”
“Dreadful!” murmured Mrs. Everest, with a contraction of her brows. “Who can understand sorrow like that?”
“The papers all agreed in one thing,” continued Barry, grimly, “that the old man was floored. You see, he had staked all on his only child and her children. Now they are taken from him, and he has nothing left.”