"The girl's got all the property, ain't she?"
"I suppose so."
"Well, then, you get two bites from the same cherry."
The manager made no advances to the girl, however, and for that we must consider Adelle herself as chiefly responsible. For, as a woman, or rather the hope of a woman, she was uninteresting,—still a pale, passive, commonplace girl. What womanhood she might expect was slow in coming to her. Even with the halo of the Clark inheritance she could arouse slight amorous interest in any man. And thus Adelle's insignificance again saved her—shall we say?—from the mean fate of becoming the prey of this "roomer."
"No man will ever take the trouble to marry that girl," Mr. Love joy remarked to his employer, "unless she gets her fortune in hard cash." In which prophecy the widower was wrong.
IX
In a few days Mr. Gardiner called at the Church Street house on behalf of the trust company, to express to its ward its sympathy with her in her bereavement and to find out what her situation was, and her needs for the future. Adelle, sitting opposite the portly, bald-headed bank officer in the little front room, did not feel especially excited. She could not imagine what this visit might mean to her. She answered all his questions in a low, colorless voice, promptly enough and intelligently enough. Yes, her aunt was her only relative so far as she knew. No, she had made no plans—she would like to stay where she was if she could. It would be pretty hard to do everything alone, etc. As the trust officer, puzzled by the situation, continued to ply her with questions so that he might gain a clearer understanding of the circumstances, he became more and more perplexed. This was something quite out of his experience as a trust officer. He had supposed in making this call that he would have merely a perfunctory duty to perform, to ratify some obviously "sensible" plan for the future of the institution's ward. As he happened to have other business in Alton, he called personally instead of writing a note.
But now he discovered that this fifteen-year-old girl had absolutely no relatives, nor "proper friends," nor visible means of support except the income from "a third-class boarding-house," as he told the president of the trust company the next day. Clearly the company must do something for its ward, whose fortune they were now beginning to discuss in seven figures.
"She must have a suitable allowance."