Thurston turned to Eaton helplessly.
“It’s as plain as daylight,” Eaton remarked, amused by the despair in his associate’s face, “that you will soon pauperize yourself at this rate. It’s only fair to tell you that the estate shrank on a rigid appraisement of Mr. Farley’s property. The million the newspapers mentioned has dwindled to about eight hundred thousand. If you give away all that’s mentioned in those wills and start this girls’ home, you won’t be able to keep more than three automobiles for yourself.”
“Oh, the proof of the pudding is in the eating—and I know it’s good!” Nan laughed. “I stuffed myself so long without thinking about my hungry neighbors that it won’t hurt me to pass the plate down the table!”
“Well, the main thing,” said Thurston, “is to get your assurance that you’ll accept the estate under your rights as Mr. Farley’s adopted daughter. I suppose we can’t prevent your giving it away without having you declared insane!”
“I dare you to try it!” Then, more serious than at any time during the interview, she said: “You’ll have to let me reason it out my own way. It was only a piece of luck that I wasn’t thrown into an orphan asylum or left to die on the river bank when the Farleys gave me a home. I shall never forget that—never again,” she added with deep feeling. “The least I can do is to pass my good luck on. I’ve thought all that out, so please don’t make me talk of it any more!”
Then, as the men rose to leave, Fanny appeared, and urged them to remain to dinner. Thurston pleaded an engagement in town; Eaton said he would stay.
“You’ve broken that man’s heart, Nan,” Eaton remarked, as Thurston rolled away in his machine.
“What did you do to him, Nancy?” asked Fanny.
“She scared him to death! He’s convinced that she’s headed for an insane asylum—that’s all,” chuckled Eaton. “Mere altruism doesn’t interest Thurston; he thinks it just a sign of weak character—worse than a weak chin.”
“I’ve always thought,” said Fanny, as her arm stole around Nan, “that Nancy has a very nice chin.”