“So your grandfather’s still in town? I supposed he would be going home before this.”
“He’s waiting to finish up the Sand Creek matter. He wants to know what is going to be done about that before he goes back. It’s worried him a great deal, and he feels that he must press it now while he can. He’s an old man, and not well. I’ve tried to get him to abandon it altogether, but it’s on my account he’s doing it. He wants to get the money for my sake, but I’m afraid he will only be disappointed.”
“Have you ever seen Colonel Craighill yourself? Do you know what he says to your grandfather?”
“Only that he puts him off—he never really tells him anything.”
“Um!”
Walsh rubbed his bald pate reflectively. The trio nearer the fire were well launched in frivolous talk. Wayne seemed in excellent spirits; Mrs. Craighill had entered into the spirit of Wingfield’s banter with zest, and Wingfield was enjoying himself immensely.
“I didn’t know you were acquainted with the family in this way. Does Wayne know?” continued Walsh.
“It’s just an accident, my being here. It was Mrs. Craighill’s kindness—I had never seen her before; and Mr. Wayne Craighill I knew, slightly. I met him at Ironstead, at Father Paddock’s settlement there.”
Walsh bent closer, as though he had not understood, and when she repeated her last sentence he drew his hand slowly down his cheek.
“Um! Is Wayne going in for that kind of business? I hadn’t heard of it.”