"Perhaps not. But just because a thing has never been said before, isn't there all the more reason for saying it now? And I'm just trying to make Mr. Beason understand"—demurely—"why some people are scholars and others are not."
But Season's mind was working straight from the shoulder.
"Does he ever come here?" he demanded.
"Yes, indeed; he honours our poor board quite often with the light of his countenance."
Beason accepted that as unextravagant statement of fact.
"Well, do you—know about him?" he asked, bluntly.
"That he's 'way up? Oh, my, yes. And we're tremendously proud of him."
"I should think you would be," said Beason, rather grimly.
"Karl is indeed remarkable," said Mrs. McCormick, blandly expansive, well pleased with both Karl and her own appreciation of him. "I feel that our family has much to be proud of, to think both he and Georgia have done so well with their work."
The expression of Beason's face was a study. Georgia laughed over it for weeks afterwards.