Truxton saw them at the window and waved. "Shall we go down?" Becky said.
"No—wait a minute. Father's in the hall." Aunt Claudia stood tensely in the middle of the room. "Becky, listen over the stair rail to what they are saying."
"But——"
"Go on," Aunt Claudia insisted; "there are times when—one breaks the rules, Becky. I've got to know what they are saying——"
The voices floated up. Truxton's a lilting tenor——
"Are you going to forgive us, Grandfather?"
"I am not the grandfather of Mary Flippin's child," the Judge spoke evidently without heat.
"You are the grandfather of Fidelity Branch Beaufort," said Truxton coolly; "you can't get away from that——"
"The neighborhood calls her Fiddle Flippin," the Judge reminded him.