"Mr. March is at home, yes," she said very haughtily. "He's in his study," and she led the way there, while the children went to their rooms.
"Well, March," Fulkerson called out at sight of him, "it's all right! The old man has come down."
"I suppose if you gentlemen are going to talk business—" Mrs. March began.
"Oh, we don't want you to go away," said Fulkerson. "I reckon March has told you, anyway."
"Yes, I've told her," said March. "Don't go, Isabel. What do you mean,
Fulkerson?"
"He's just gone on up home, and he sent me round with his apologies. He sees now that he had no business to speak to you as he did, and he withdraws everything. He'd 'a' come round himself if I'd said so, but I told him I could make it all right."
Fulkerson looked so happy in having the whole affair put right, and the Marches knew him to be so kindly affected toward them, that they could not refuse for the moment to share his mood. They felt themselves slipping down from the moral height which they had gained, and March made a clutch to stay himself with the question, "And Lindau?"
"Well," said Fulkerson, "he's going to leave Lindau to me. You won't have anything to do with it. I'll let the old fellow down easy."
"Do you mean," asked March, "that Mr. Dryfoos insists on his being dismissed?"
"Why, there isn't any dismissing about it," Fulkerson argued. "If you don't send him any more work, he won't do any more, that's all. Or if he comes round, you can—He's to be referred to me."