"Yes, indeed he does; altogether too freely for his good, if the village boys can be believed. I heard that he came home intoxicated only night before last."
"Why, that is nothing new!" added Nettie Burdick; "he often comes home in that condition. Dick Fuller says it is a common experience; and he would know what he is talking about, for he has to be at the depot when the last train comes in. Besides, he makes his money in that way; why shouldn't he patronize himself?"
"What do you mean?" Claire asked, her face troubled.
"Why, his money is all invested in one of the distilleries. He has a fortune in his own right, Miss Benedict, left him by his grandmother, and he invested it in Westlake's distillery. He is one of the owners, though his name does not appear in the firm; the Ansted pride would not like that; but I know this is true, for my uncle transacted the business for him."
Claire started again, making no comment, but this time she moved more slowly. There were reasons why the news gave her a special thrust.
The callers greeted her with evident pleasure, and expressed their disappointment at having failed to see her in their other attempts, and gave her messages from their mother to the effect that she was to consider their house one of her homes. Fanatic though she was, it was plainly to be seen that they had resolved to tolerate the fanaticism for the sake of the pleasure of her society.
There were other callers, and in a few minutes the conversation, which had been general, dropped into little side channels. Alice Ansted, occupying a seat near Miss Benedict, turned to her and spoke low:
"I have wanted to see you. What you said to me that day has made me more dissatisfied than ever, and that was unnecessary; I was uncomfortable enough before. I did not understand you. What is there that you want me to do?"
"How do you know I want you to do anything?" Claire could not resist the temptation to ask the question, and to laugh a little; her questioner's tone was so nervous, so almost rebellious, and at the same time so pettish.
"Oh, I know well enough. You expressed surprise, and well—almost bewilderment—that I did not find absorbing work in a channel about which I know nothing. Suppose I am a Christian, what then? What do you want me to do?"