One day in June Grace went to Judge Sanders’ office on an errand for Miss Reynolds. It was merely a matter of leaving an abstract of title for examination, but as she was explaining what was wanted to the office girl John Moore came out of one of the inner rooms.
“Caught in the act!” he exclaimed. “I’ve just been hankering to see you. Can’t you give me a few minutes, right now?”
She was really in a hurry, but when he earnestly protested that he had business with her she followed him into a room whose door bore the inscription: “Mr. Moore.”
“That looks terribly important, John,” she said indicating the lettering. “Onward and upward!”
“Well,” he said, when they were seated. “Mr. Kemp’s death has thrown a lot of business into the office and some of it that doesn’t require much brain power they leave to me. Mr. Trenton just left a few minutes ago. He came in to see if I’d go down into Knox County to inventory a coal mine Kemp owned. I’m getting a lot of little jobs like that.”
She smiled, as he wanted her to, at his boyish pride in his work. She derived a deep pleasure from the thought that Trenton had just been there. Trenton would appreciate John’s qualities; they would appreciate each other’s qualities and talents.
“Maybe you don’t know,” John went on, “and maybe I oughtn’t to tell you; but right here on my desk are the papers for your father to sign away his rights in his motor patents and his formula for that non-breakable spark-plug porcelain you probably know about. Your father’s coming in tomorrow to sign up. Mr. Trenton has left a check here for advance royalties that will pay the Durland grocery bill for sometime to come!”
“Do you mean it, John! I’d been afraid Mr. Kemp’s death would end all that.”
“Trenton’s the whole cheese in that business now and he knows what he’s doing. He says those two things are bound to earn your father a lot of money.”
“Father certainly deserves any success that may come to him. I’m so glad for him and mother—just now when things at home don’t look particularly bright.”