Dameron bowed his head.
“Your surmise is quite correct. I hold, as trustee for you, several notes, given by Mrs. Merriam. They’re now in default and in the bank for collection.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t know that earlier, father. I wish you had told me. I have been seeing a good deal of my Cousin Olive. I like her immensely; I have been to her house familiarly, and she has been to see me pretty often, when she could get away from her work. I didn’t know, of course, that I was even remotely their creditor. The situation isn’t exactly comfortable, now that I know it.”
“I’m sorry that the matter should have risen; but there is no reason why they should transfer their burdens to your shoulders, Zee.”
“I hope you understand that they have never mentioned this subject or hinted that they owed you or me. I only know that they feel they must leave the house. I fancy that they are being pushed by the bank—to pay the money.”
“The bank has, of course, no alternative in the matter. It’s their business to collect.” And this fact seemed to give Ezra Dameron pleasure.
“But if the owner of the note doesn’t want to push the people who made the debt,—”
“It is very bad business to carry overdue paper. New notes have to be given in such cases.”
It was clear to Zelda that her father had no sympathy with her liking for the Merriams or her wish to help them in their difficulty. She was sure that she could manage in some way to stop the pressure that was being brought to bear on them, and she hoped to do it through her father without going to her uncle, who would, she knew, give her any money she might ask, after he had made a row about it. But it pleased her to carry the matter through with her father.
“What is the amount, father?”