“I'd find a way,” retorted Daniel, hotly, “so I would.”
“We 'll do all we can,” said Miller.
Daniel strode into the house and Alan went after his horse. Miller stood at the gate, idly tapping his boot with his whip.
“Poor Mrs. Bishop!” he said, his eyes on the house; “how very much she resembled Adele just now, and she is bearing it just like the little girl would. I reckon they 'll write her the bad news. I wish I was there to—soften the blow. It will wring her heart.”
XXIII
