“Thank you,” she returned, simply. “I am going to believe it because you do. I know that you know the truth. I know it—I know it!” She held the violets to her lips, and it was as if she kissed the purple petals.
A glow as of reviving health seemed to suffuse her wan cheeks.
CHAPTER XII
THAT evening after supper, as Paul sat writing in his room, his employer came to the door and looked in.
“Hello!” was his half-tentative greeting, as he slouched in and took a chair near the table. “I've just been talkin' to my sister. She's powerful tickled over the effect on Eth' of your trip over the mountain. She says she's actually astonished. It seems like the gal's goin' to quit 'er foolishness. I was gettin' powerful sick of it myself. It's hard enough to know your own end's got to come some time ahead without dyin' every time anybody else kicks the bucket.”
“I'm glad to know that Miss Ethel feels better.” Paul dipped his pen and continued to write.
Hoag crossed his fat legs and, reaching down to his right shoe, he began to fumble the string. “I want to see you about a certain matter,” he began, clearing his throat. “I don't know as you will consider it any o' my business exactly, but it is something that I thought you ought to be prepared for.”
“What is it?” Paul put his pen into the rack and leaned toward the speaker.