“I declar’ to goodness if he ain’t gwine to cry in those tarts fo’ sho’!” she said to herself and cast an anxious look at Mrs. Carter’s troubled face.
At this juncture, William, who felt himself to be a death’s head at the feast, rose abruptly and left the room. A moment later the startled family heard the front door close behind him. Emily slipped out of her seat and ran to the window, coming back just as Miranda returned to the kitchen.
“He’s gone to the Denbighs,” Emily announced in a stage whisper in her mother’s ear. “I just knew he would.”
“Oh, Emmy, hush!” Mrs. Carter said, looking shocked.
“He’s gone there—I watched him,” said Emily, helping herself to more cherry tarts.
More might have followed but for the fortunate return of Miranda. As she came back, Daniel, having finished his meal, rose slowly and started for the door.
“Dan,” said his father, looking around at him for the first time. “Jessup says you won the case. He thinks you’re a great lawyer. I’m proud of you, my son!”
Daniel’s face flushed; he understood the break in the older man’s voice.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “I’m sorry I had to do what I did.”
His father nodded his head gravely.