“Yes, dad.” With an impulsive start Katherine seated herself on the low sill of the window and clasped her hands in her lap. “I wish you would let me talk it over with you. You know I am interested in your affairs, dad. And,” hesitatingly, “maybe I can help you.”
For a space all three were silent. Katherine was leaning back in a pose that brought out all her unconscious beauty. The waning light fell full upon her, and the sunset seemed to be faintly reflected in her face. Her hair was coiled above her forehead in easy disorder.
McNally, sitting back in the shadow, looked fixedly at her, and as he looked it seemed to him that her beauty spiced the atmosphere. He found himself drawing in his breath keenly and almost audibly, and gripping the arms of the easy-chair: with a sudden half-amused feeling of boyishness he relaxed his grip and leaned back comfortably. It was some time since the introspective Mr. McNally had found it necessary to reprove himself for such a slip of demeanor.
“I couldn't help seeing what was going on,” continued Katherine. “And you told me the other day that I had helped you some.” She turned appealingly toward her father, who sat with head lowered, scowling at the carpet. McNally broke the pause.
“There is very little we can tell you, Miss Katherine. A business matter of this importance is too complicated for any one who has not grown up with the problems. It would involve the history of two railroads for years back.”
“Why is it,” asked Katherine, earnestly, “that a man never credits a woman with common sense? I am not blind. I know that the M. & T. is a feeder to C. & S.C., that it supplies us with coal, and that we could earn and save money by making it a part of our system. Mr. Weeks is fighting us for some reason, and we are planning to force the question. Isn't that so?”
“Where did you learn this, Katherine?” asked her father.
“From no one particular source. You have told me a great deal yourself, dad.”
“The question is, Miss Katherine,” McNally said, “what good could you possibly do? Without implying any doubt of your ability, you see our course is already mapped out for us by circumstances. In fact, there is only one way open that leads to a logical outcome. If we were in a position where we needed tactful advice, you could undoubtedly be of help, but just now what we want is a force of strong, aggressive men.”
“Mr. McNally is right, dear,” said Porter. “Everything is decided, and all we can do is to tend to business. This Weeks is following rather a dishonorable course, and we are prepared to meet him; that is all.”