The sight of her gave him a shock, as she had been in his mind; the book over which he had been poring was the cash book of his trusteeship. He marked his place with a scrap of paper and turned to her.
“I came on an errand,” said Zelda. “I don’t think your housekeeping is well done,” she added, glancing about the room.
“It serves me very well,” said the old man. “Business is only to be considered as business.”
“I suppose that’s a warning; but I really came on a little business, father.”
“Oh!” He had no idea that she had ever visited the office before. He thought on the instant that she had come for money.
“I have just heard that Olive Merriam and her mother are in trouble,—that is, money trouble.”
He looked at her quickly, and searched her with his sharp eyes. The Merriams had been trading on Zelda’s friendship, he decided, and he smiled to himself as he settled back in his chair, determined to thwart any quixotic plan that Zelda might broach in their behalf.
“I imagine that they have very little—very little,” he said.
“I know nothing of their affairs; but I have just learned that they expect to move, and when I asked Olive why, she said they owed a debt they couldn’t pay.”
“They live on Harrison Street. I have seen the place. It’s a very comfortable cottage, isn’t it?” he asked.