He was looking at Ted, and Ted nodded eagerly, thinking now of what, in the practical sense, this would mean to Ruth. Mr. McFarland turned back to Cyrus as he remarked: "He spoke of Ruth with much feeling."
Cyrus flushed. "I guess father was pretty much broken—in mind as well as body—at that time," he said unpleasantly.
"His mind was all right," answered the lawyer curtly.
He left a few minutes later; Harriett, who went with him to the door, did not return to the room. The two men and Ted sat for a moment in silence. Then Cyrus turned upon him as if angered by what he divined him to be feeling. "Well," he said roughly, "I suppose you're pleased?"
"I'm pleased, all right," replied Ted with satisfaction. He looked at the minister. "Good thing, for I guess I'm the only fellow here who is."
Harriett's husband colored slightly. "I am neither pleased nor displeased," was his grave reply. "Surely it was for your father to do as he wished. For a father to forgive a child is—moving. I only hope," he added, "that it will not seem in the community to mean the countenancing—" He paused, looking to Cyrus for approval.
Then Ten blazed out. "Well, if you want to know what I think, I don't think a little 'countenancing' of Ruth is going to do this community—or anybody else—any harm!"
Cyrus looked at him with that slightly sneering smile that always enraged Ted. "You're proud of your sister, I suppose?" he inquired politely.
Ted reddened. Then he grew strangely quiet. "Yes," he said, "I believe I am. I've come pretty close to Ruth these last few days, and I think that's just what I am—proud of her. I can't say I'm proud of what Ruth did; I'd have to think more about that. But I'm proud of what she is. And I don't know—I don't know but what it's what a person is that counts." He fell silent, thinking of what he meant by that, of the things he felt in Ruth.
Cyrus laughed mockingly. "Rather a curious thing to be proud of, I should say. What she 'is' is—"