“So my grandfather died before it was straightened out,” interrupted Derrick. “That’s too bad! But they let everybody know about it then, of course? Why wasn’t father told?”
“That,” said Aunt Elsie, earnestly, “is a part that I can not understand. Evarts had the business of the family to attend to, and we supposed, of course—Derrick, are you quite sure that your father doesn’t know about it?”
“Of course I am, dead sure; it isn’t two months since he reminded me, one night in talk we were having, that I had my grandfather’s name, which no breath of dishonor had ever sullied, so far as he was concerned; and while he didn’t say anything out plain about Uncle Derrick—he never has to me—he knew that I understood where the dishonor came in. That wouldn’t have been one bit like father, if he had known all this.”
“No,” said Aunt Elsie, “it wouldn’t.” Then she set her lips in a way that made her firm chin look firmer still, as she added: “He shall know it, though, before I am a day older.”
It was at that moment that Mrs. Forman returned to remind Derrick that it was growing late and that he had a hard day’s work coming.
“That’s so,” the boy said, springing up: “And I’ve got a whole page to copy into my exercise book before I sleep!” Whereupon he kissed his mother in haste and disappeared.
[CHAPTER VI]
RAKING UP AN OLD DISGRACE
AUNT ELSIE was true to her word, and on the evening following her long talk with her nephew, Derrick, came her opportunity.
Mr. Forman was on the couch in the little sitting-room resting from a day of hard work, while his wife read the evening papers aloud. His sister was the only other listener.
In the midst of the reading Mrs. Forman was summoned to the aid of a neighbor who was ill, and Aunt Elsie offered to read in her stead. This was done with such acceptance that Mr. Forman was moved to compliment. “It isn’t often I find a reader who is as satisfactory as Louise,” he added. “Most of the young people read too fast, and those who don’t, mumble their words.”