I may have imagined the seeming relief in his voice as he answered, “And is that all?” He was writing in his little notebook.
“No,” I answered, “I think also that I should have enough to settle my indebtednesses which were incurred directly as a result of my attempt to keep my daughter with me during my marriage, and $2,500 would allow me to settle these debts and have a balance upon which to ‘turn around,’ as it were.”
All this was jotted down in the notebook, apparently verbatim.
Dr. Harding started to rise. “And, Dr. Harding,” I said, “you will understand that I would appreciate having this arrangement start as soon as possible, because it means so much to me in making my plans to have Elizabeth Ann.” The doctor’s face registered anger. “I most certainly refuse to be hurried in my investigations,” he said. I hastened to assure him that I did not wish to hurry him, but on the contrary wished him to take all the time required to establish the truth of my statements, and I myself would do all in my power to aid him, thus perhaps expediting the investigations.
“But I must know whether or not you people wish to do this for Elizabeth Ann,” I said, “because there is a man in Washington who has volunteered to attempt to raise such a fund among Mr. Harding’s most intimate friends.” I am sure the doctor did not mean to betray the alert interest and alarm I so clearly read in his query, “Who is it?” I explained that I was not at liberty at present to divulge the gentleman’s identity. Dr. Harding moved toward the door. I rose to follow him downstairs. I do not remember that Dr. Harding thanked me for the interview, but I remember that I thanked him.
We joined his sister and her husband for dinner. Dr. Harding ate hurriedly, saying he had to return to Columbus to attend school exercises in which his daughter was taking part, and bade us goodbye. I thanked him again for coming out in the storm forty-five miles to talk with me and could not help wondering why he seemed to accept this little speech with seeming impatience.
160
When Daisy Harding and I were doing up the dishes that evening, I said to her, “Why, you said he would probably be very severe in his remarks to me. He wasn’t so terrible—just wanted to know dates. I was not afraid of him.” I did not add that rather had I felt sorry for him. Miss Harding replied that he had threatened to “pin me down” to every little thing. However, he hadn’t needed to contemplate any such strenuous course of action, for I was all too ready to talk freely and truthfully. Miss Harding sighed. “Brother Deac is not well. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if he were to go any day; his heart is very weak.” I said I was sorry to hear that. I was pretty weak myself.
I told Miss Harding that her brother had asked me for the dates of the two checks which I had sent personally to my sister Elizabeth, for the baby’s care, in amounts of $500 and $525, and I had promised to send these to him. Also he had asked me for the date upon which Mr. Harding had sent me my watch, and this date, also, I would send him from New York immediately upon my return.
I did not think Miss Harding seemed anxious for me to remain over until the following day, and so I decided to return on the late train that night. Her husband, Mr. Lewis, bade me goodbye and retired early, leaving Miss Harding and me to talk together until my taxi came. Ralph Lewis seemed to be such a dear, and I have often wondered exactly what is in his mind as to my liaison with his wife’s brother. Yes, I thought, as I shook hands with him that night, I would give a lot to know just what Ralph Lewis thinks—the good-natured man who used to sell me sour pickles in his grocery-store—when I was a little girl!