“You cannot,” was the prompt response, and under his tan Richards felt his color rise. Hale’s manner to him could never be termed ingratiating. If Judith caught the undercurrent of dislike in her father’s abrupt refusal she gave no sign of it, as she went placidly on with her knitting.
“I will see that you are supplied with a secretary in Polly’s place,” she explained. “And if you consent, Father, I plan to give her and her mother a trip to Atlantic City.”
“Bless my soul, Judith!” Mrs. Hale dropped the note she was reading and stared at her. “I think such generosity is quite unnecessary.”
“Please”—Judith laid aside her knitting and her voice was soft and winning. “Please, dear, let me have my way in this. You, Father, will benefit.”
Hale, in gathering up his playing cards, dropped half of them on the floor, and he was some seconds in collecting them, with the assistance of Richards.
“How shall I benefit?” he asked, acknowledging Richards’ courtesy with a nod of his head.
“By getting more efficient work,” Judith explained. “Polly is on the point of a nervous breakdown. Rest and sea breezes will put her on her feet again; whereas if she is forced to leave you on account of illness, you will still be obliged to fill her place—perhaps for an indefinite time.”
Hale stacked the cards neatly before him and rising, put the small table back against the wall in its customary place. “I’ll think over your plan, Judith,” he agreed. “But mind you, I can’t promise. Well, Agatha,”—as his wife, seeing he was about to leave the library, rose also, a bundle of papers in her hand—“what is it? Do you wish to go on a vacation, also?”
“No, indeed!” Mrs. Hale took her courage in both hands. “Here are some bills—they have just come in,” hastening to forestall objections. But, contrary to her expectations, Hale did not indulge in his usual sarcastic comments regarding her efforts to keep household accounts systematically—the word “system” was not in Mrs. Hale’s vocabulary.
“Bring the bills to my den,” he suggested, “and I will go over them. Don’t stay up too late, Judith,” he cautioned, turning back from the door as Mrs. Hale, much relieved, hastily gathered together her cherished account books, which never balanced, and scurried out of the library ahead of him in some trepidation lest he might change his mind. Hale looked first at Judith and then at her husband. “Don’t let Judith overtire herself, Joe; we cannot have that.” Wheeling around, he followed his wife upstairs.