sort of brooding over this whole business— I mean before Walter’s trouble he must been taking it to heart pretty hard for some time back. He thought I didn’t think much of him any more—and I expect he maybe wondered some what I was going to DO—and there’s nothing worse’n that state of mind to make a man suspicious of all kinds of meanness. Well, he practically stood up there and accused me to my face of fixing things so’t he couldn’t ever raise the money to settle for Walter and ask us not to prosecute. That’s the state of mind your father’s brooding got him into, young lady—charging me with a trick like that!”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you’d never–-“
The old man slapped his sturdy knee, angrily. “Why, that dang fool of a Virgil Adams!” he exclaimed. “He wouldn’t even give me a chance to talk; and he got me so mad I couldn’t hardly talk, anyway! He might ‘a’ known from the first I wasn’t going to let him walk in and beat me out of my own—that is, he might ‘a’ known I wouldn’t let him get ahead of me in a business matter—not with my boys twitting me about it every few minutes! But to talk to me the way he did this morning—well, he was out of his head; that’s all! Now, wait just a minute,” he interposed, as she seemed about to speak. “In the first place, we aren’t going to push this case against your brother. I believe in the law, all right, and business men got to protect themselves; but in a case like this, where restitution’s made by the family, why, I expect it’s just as well sometimes to use a little influence and let matters drop. Of course your brother’ll have to keep out o’ this state; that’s all.”
“But—you said–-” she faltered.
“Yes. What’d I say?”
“You said, ‘where restitution’s made by the family.’ That’s what seemed to trouble papa so terribly, because— because restitution couldn’t–-“
“Why, yes, it could. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.”
“I don’t see–-“
“I’m going to TELL you, ain’t I?” he said, gruffly. “Just hold your horses a minute, please.” He coughed, rose from his chair, walked up and down the room, then halted before her. “It’s like this,” he said. “After I brought your father home, this morning, there was one of the things he told me, when he was going for me, over yonder—it kind of stuck in my craw. It was something about all this glue controversy not meaning anything to me in particular, and meaning a whole heap to him and his family. Well, he was wrong about that two ways. The first one was, it did mean a good deal to me to have him go back on me after so many years. I don’t need to say any more about it, except just to tell you it meant quite a little more to me than you’d think, maybe. The other way he was wrong is, that how much a thing means to one man and how little it means to another ain’t the right way to look at a business matter.”
“I suppose it isn’t, Mr. Lamb.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t. It’s not the right way to look at anything. Yes, and your father knows it as well as I do, when he’s in his right mind; and I expect that’s one of the reasons he got so mad at me—but anyhow, I couldn’t help thinking about how much all this thing HAD maybe meant to him;—as I say, it kind of stuck in my craw. I want you to tell him something from me, and I want you to go and tell him right off, if he’s able and willing to listen. You tell him I got kind of a notion he was pushed into this thing by circumstances, and tell him I’ve lived long enough to know that circumstances can beat the best of us—you tell him I said ‘the BEST of us.’ Tell him I haven’t got a bit of feeling against him—not any more—and tell him I came here to ask him not to have any against me.”
“Yes, Mr. Lamb.”
“Tell him I said–-” The old man paused abruptly and Alice was surprised, in a dull and tired way, when she saw that his lips had begun to twitch and his eyelids to blink; but he recovered himself almost at once, and continued: “I want him to remember, ‘Forgive us our transgressions, as we forgive those that transgress against us’; and if he and I been transgressing against each other, why, tell him I think it’s time we QUIT such foolishness!”
He coughed again, smiled heartily upon her, and walked toward the door; then turned back to her with an exclamation: “Well, if I ain’t an old fool!”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Why, I forgot what we were just talking about! Your father wants to settle for Walter’s deficit. Tell him we’ll be glad to accept it; but of course we don’t expect him to clean the matter up until he’s able to talk business again.”
Alice stared at him blankly enough for him to perceive that further explanations were necessary. “It’s like this,” he said. “You see, if your father decided to keep his works going over yonder, I don’t say but he might give us some little competition for a time, ‘specially as he’s got the start on us and about ready for the market. Then I was figuring we could use his plant—it’s small, but it’d be to our benefit to have the use of it—and he’s got a lease on that big lot; it may come in handy for us if we want to expand some. Well, I’d prefer to make a deal with him as quietly as possible–no good in every Tom, Dick and Harry hearing about things like this—but I figured he could sell out to me for a little something more’n enough to cover the mortgage he put on this house, and Walter’s deficit, too—THAT don’t amount to much in dollars and cents. The way I figure it, I could offer him about ninety-three hundred dollars as a total—or say ninety-three hundred and fifty— and if he feels like accepting, why, I’ll send a confidential man up here with the papers soon’s your father’s able to look ‘em over. You tell him, will you, and ask him if he sees his way to accepting that figure?”
“Yes,” Alice said; and now her own lips twitched, while her eyes filled so that she saw but a blurred image of the old man, who held out his hand in parting. “I’ll tell him. Thank you.”
He shook her hand hastily. “Well, let’s just keep it kind of quiet,” he said, at the door. “No good in every Tom, Dick and Harry knowing all what goes on in town! You telephone me when your papa’s ready to go over the papers—and call me up at my house to-night, will you? Let me hear how he’s feeling?”
“I will,” she said, and through her grateful tears gave him a smile almost radiant. “He’ll be better, Mr. Lamb. We all will.”
CHAPTER XXV
One morning, that autumn, Mrs. Adams came into Alice’s room, and found her completing a sober toilet for the street; moreover, the expression revealed in her mirror was harmonious with the businesslike severity of her attire. “What makes you look so cross, dearie?” the mother asked. “Couldn’t you find anything nicer to wear than that plain old dark dress?”
“I don’t believe I’m cross,” the girl said, absently. “I believe I’m just thinking. Isn’t it about time?”
“Time for what?”
