When they were gone, the broken Elmer whimpered, “But, T. J., I never in the world could raise ten thousand! Why, I haven’t saved a thousand!”
“Hell’s big bells, Elmer! You don’t suppose we’re going to pay ’em any ten thousand, do you? It may cost you fifteen hundred—which I’ll lend you—five hundred to sweeten Hettie, and maybe a thousand for detectives.”
“Uh?”
“At a quarter to two this morning I was talking to Pete Reese of the Reese Detective Agency, telling him to get busy. We’ll know a lot about the Dowlers in a few days. So don’t worry.”
V
Elmer was sufficiently consoled not to agonize that week, yet not so consoled but that he became a humble and tender Christian. To the embarrassed astonishment of his children, he played with them every evening. To Cleo he was almost uxorious.
“Dearest,” he said, “I realize that I have—oh, it isn’t entirely my fault; I’ve been so absorbed in the Work: but the fact remains that I haven’t given you enough attention, and tomorrow evening I want you to go to a concert with me.”
“Oh, Elmer!” she rejoiced.
And he sent her flowers, once.
“You see!” his mother exulted. “I knew you and Cleo would be happier if I just pointed out a few things to you. After all, your old mother may be stupid and Main-Street, but there’s nobody like a mother to understand her own boy, and I knew that if I just spoke to you, even if you are a Doctor of Divinity, you’d see things different!”