Doctor Vardaman set down his glass with unusual emphasis. "That's the third or fourth time this week that I've heard 'that about Gwynne Peters,'" said he. "And in spite of it, I've never found out yet what 'that about Gwynne Peters' is!"
"What! Didn't you know? Why, I thought somehow you knew all about the Gwynnes. Haven't you heard about the fuss with Pallinder and all?"
The doctor shook his head, and motioned to Huddesley for fresh glasses. "Never saw anything like the way the boys are getting through the wine," was his inward comment. "And how warm they all look!" Then aloud: "So that's the reason Gwynne dropped out of the play; I thought it a little odd when he declined my dinner," he said, fixing a thoughtful gaze on Archie. "There's been a fuss with the Colonel, has there? What was it about?" He fully expected to hear Archie say, "Why, you know old Steven Gwynne——" had done this or that. But the young man only looked at him inquiringly.
"I thought you always knew all there was to know about the Gwynnes," he repeated. "Templeton, their agent, has a desk with us—do you know him?"
"No—yes, I've seen him. He's short and stout and wears spectacles, doesn't he?"
"Yes, that's Templeton. You must have heard father's stories about him and the Gwynnes; he has this little real-estate business, and scratches along somehow, I believe the Gwynne estate's the biggest part of it. Father says it's no trouble at all now compared to what it was before Gwynne Peters took hold; father says there were two or three years when Gwynne was away, before he got through Harvard, you know, when Templeton's life wasn't worth living."
"Well, I never understood that Gwynne managed the estate personally," said the doctor, recalling, however, a recent scene in his library with considerable interest.
"No, he don't. He—well, he manages the family—I guess that's about the size of it. Gwynne's getting a pretty good law-practice, you know; he couldn't take his time to run around looking at roofs and down-spouts. That's Templeton's job. When he leased the house to Colonel Pallinder, you ought to have seen Templeton! I'll bet he was the happiest man in Washington County. He's a nervous, excitable little fellow anyhow. He said Pallinder leased it for three years at a hundred and fifty a month, and it was a perfect miracle; the house is awfully old, and it was all out of repair and hadn't any modern improvements, except a furnace. Why, you remember what it was like, Doctor. Well, then, the question of repapering and putting it in order came up, and he told the Colonel flat he couldn't allow but just so much (one month's rent, I think) for repairs. It was too funny, Doctor, to hear him telling father about it. 'You know there's about twenty of the Gwynne heirs, Judge Lewis,' says he, 'and nobody's got any money, and everybody's got a say; and I simply couldn't promise to do all the Colonel wanted. Every time I paint a porch or fix somebody's sink, those two old Miss Gwynnes take to their beds!' You just ought to have seen Templeton telling all this, doctor, with those big glasses shining, and his Adam's apple kind of working up and down the way it does with nervous men. I guess it's not all pie attending to the Gwynnes' affairs, even now. They're all so queer—except Gwynne Peters, he's all right. Finally the Colonel said he rather expected to buy the house anyhow, and if they had no objection he'd go ahead and fix it to suit himself, at his own expense. This is Templeton's side I'm giving you, you know; I guess it's as near the truth as we'll ever get. Seems to me Templeton was pretty careless, not to have it all in writing. Anyhow, you know what they did, Doctor; built that little conservatory, and put in all new plumbing, and had the house painted and papered and grained from top to bottom—the Lord knows what all the bills will come to—the Lord knows and He won't tell! But somebody else will," said Archie with a grin.
"Well, what's happened?"