“I TELL you, David Royall, I can’t understand I how you ever let that man come to your house,� Mrs. Eaton said; “a common man in the first place, and now—why, there can’t be any doubt at all about Jean Bartlett! Hasn’t he got the child?�
Colonel Royall tilted his chair against the pillar of the veranda and looked at her mildly. “That’s where the doubt comes in, Jinny,� he remarked.
“I can’t understand you!� she retorted tartly, dropping a stitch in her crocheting and struggling blindly to pick it up. “I can’t in the least understand your doubts—it’s obvious.�
“Which?� said the colonel, “the doubt or Sammy?�
“Both!� said she.
“Well, Dr. Cheyney told me about it,� said the colonel, “and I’m not sure that I believe all the other things I hear. Give him the benefit of the doubt, Jinny.�
“There isn’t any doubt,� declared Mrs. Eaton; “everybody says he’s the father of that child.�
Colonel Royall shook his head slowly. “It isn’t like the male critter, Jinny,� he argued mildly, “to take in the child; he’d most likely ship it.�
“Some women do that!� said Mrs. Eaton sharply, shutting her thin lips.
The colonel turned a terrible face upon her. “Jinny!�