"I want to know what there is about this will of Mr. Gordon's," she demands. "Some absurd legacy, I presume; at least, my solicitor, Colonel Henderson, seemed to think so. I suppose you've heard of Colonel Britt Henderson?"
"Not a whisper," says I, as defiant as I know how.
She expresses her opinion of such ignorance with a little lift of her pointed chin. "Colonel Henderson," she goes on, "is perhaps the ablest and most brilliant attorney in Virginyah. He is connected with the best families in the State."
"Never heard of anybody from down there that wa'n't," says I. "And while I ain't disputin' him, mind you, his guess about this bein' a legacy is——"
"Will Mr. Steele be in soon?" she asks crisp.
"Might," says I, "and then again he mightn't."
"It's rather rude of him to keep me waiting," says she.
"Maybe if you'd sent word ahead," I suggests, "he'd been on hand. But now you've come all this way——"
"You don't suppose," breaks in Mrs. Hollister, "that I came north just for that? Not at all. It was to select a design for the memorial window I am having placed in our church, in memory of poor, dear Professor Hollister. My late husband, you know; and a most noble, talented, courtly gentleman he was too."
"Ye-e-es'm," says I.