“I’m glad you happened in, Zee. There’s something I wish to speak to you about. We may as well discuss it now; and if it’s agreeable to you, I should like Mr. Leighton to stay. It’s a legal matter that we may want him to advise us about.”
“You have a serious air. I hope you haven’t been breaking any laws, you two. Certainly, Mr. Leighton may stay.”
“Sit down, Morris,” said Merriam, deliberately.
Zelda had taken a chair in the corner away from the smoldering fire, and Merriam found the chair that he liked least, with an unformed idea that such self-immolation fitted him better for an unpleasant task. He did not begin immediately, and while he collected his thoughts Zelda watched him with amusement.
“If you knew how funny you look, Uncle Rodney, I’m sure you’d laugh. And you seem a little ultra-serious, too, Mr. Leighton. Please, uncle, don’t scold me!”
“Yes. Yes, to be sure,” said Merriam, absent-mindedly, and Leighton and Zelda exchanged a smile.
“I want to speak to you about your property. There are some things connected with your affairs that you must know.”
“But father attends to everything—you’ll certainly waste your talents on me. Do let us talk of something cheerful.”
But her uncle went on now, and she listened attentively.
“You know that your property, what your mother had and wished to give to you, was left in trust. Your father is the trustee.”