“No, it is Julia who is the youngest,” said the mother, breathlessly, indicating the girl, who came forward and shook hands with Dr. Harding too. Though she had been in the room at his first appearance, there had been no thought of introduction then.
“It is quite curious,” said the doctor, with his hearty voice, “to find myself among old friends. I expected to find only my little Janet, and here I am surrounded by people whom I knew in the old days in Liverpool before she was born.”
“But we have nothing to do with Liverpool,” said Dolff.
“Welsh,” said Mrs. Harwood, with breathless brevity.
“Ah, yes, by origin; the little property’s there, isn’t it? But Harwood has been a well-known name in Liverpool for longer than any of us can recollect. I remember when it was talked of like the Bank of England,” said the doctor, shaking his head a little and with a suppressed sigh.
“Oh,” cried Mrs. Harwood, “I am not fond of those old recollections; they always lead to something sad.”
She had made another tremendous effort of self-control, recovered her voice, recovered her composure. She sat bolt upright in her chair, her eyes shining out like watch-lights, and all her color concentrated in two red spots in her cheeks.
“This is very interesting to me, for I never heard of it before,” said Dolff. “My mother has told us very little, Dr. Harding; I should be very grateful for a little information.”
“My dear young fellow,” said Dr. Harding, “I daresay your mother’s very wise. Least said is soonest mended. That’s all over and done with. It all went to pieces, you know, when your father”—he paused a moment, visibly embarrassed, not knowing what word to use; then added softly, “when your father—died.”
Mrs. Harwood drew a long breath. She sank back a little in her chair. The dreadful tension was loosed.