“Your father has sold a great deal of your property,” he repeated; “and it appears that through neglect,”—he hesitated—“or forgetfulness, the court’s approval was not secured in at least one case. Of course, this can be corrected.”
He waited, to study his ground a little, and he glanced at Leighton, as though to make sure that the young man had not deserted him.
“Father is a little forgetful sometimes,” said Zelda. “He isn’t a young man, you must remember.” The sympathy with which she spoke made Merriam uncomfortable; and Leighton moved uneasily. It was not a pleasant task,—that of telling a young woman that her father was a rascal.
“But while the order of court can be procured and injury to the purchaser prevented, there is another side of the matter that we must consider.”
“Yes, uncle,”—and she smiled a little forlornly. She knew that she should meet the blow bravely when it fell; but it hurt her now to feel her uncle’s kindness.
“It hurts me,—Zelda, it hurts me more than I can tell you, to have to say that all is not quite clear about this transaction. Your father has sold at an extraordinary price. I fear that he is in difficulties. In this real estate matter you have your remedy. It is of this that I wish to speak particularly. It is only right that I should protect you if I can.”
“You are very kind; you are always good to me, Uncle Rodney.”
“The failure to get the court’s approval of the sale of the real estate makes it possible for us to save it—this one piece, maybe, though nearly all the rest is gone—to get it back, perhaps. The situation is not agreeable. Your father received the money and I am afraid he has made—at least we are led to suspect—that he has made—ill use of it. But we may find it possible to set this sale aside, or get an additional sum from the purchaser,—”
Merriam was looking intently at the floor as he spoke these sentences. He was aware suddenly that Zelda had risen and crossed the room until she stood before him, with flaming cheeks and flashing eyes. He unconsciously rose and drew away from her. It seemed to Leighton that the air in the room grew tense. The girl stood between the two men, her lips parted, one hand on the back of a chair.
“Uncle Rodney, I never thought that you would—insult me—in your own house—under the pretense of kindness! I should like to know what you gentlemen mean, and what you think I am—that I should listen to such things from you! To think that I should be willing to take advantage of the law to defraud some one, on the theory that my father was defrauding me—stealing from me, I suppose you mean!”