I want to do something for you, Fox. You have done so much for me--for us."

He was standing by the fire. As she came, he held out his hands and she gave him both of hers. Ah! Doctor Sanderson, you are in danger of forgetting your resolution; that resolution which you thought was so wise. In truth, the words trembled on the tip of his tongue. But Sally's "for us" brought him to his senses.

"Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said ruefully. "You don't know. You don't know."

"Well," Sally replied impatiently, after she had waited in vain for some moments for him to finish, "what don't I know? I don't know everything. I am aware of that, and that is the first step to knowledge."

"You come near enough to it," he returned, as if speaking to himself.

He was looking down, as he spoke, into great gray eyes which, somehow, were very soft and tender. He looked away. "Sometime you will know."

"Everything?" asked Sally, smiling.

"Everything that is worth knowing," he answered gently. "Yes, everything that is worth knowing," he repeated, slowly.

Sally pondered for a brief instant; then flushed a little, but so little that you would scarcely have noticed it, especially if you had been looking away from her, as Fox was at some pains to do.

"We have not settled that question, Fox," she said. He still held her hands, but he scarcely glanced at her. "Fox,"--giving him a gentle shake,--"pay attention and look at me." He looked at her, trying not to let his eyes tell tales. Very likely Sally would think they told of no more than the brotherly affection which she had become used to, from him. Very likely that was what she did think. She gave no sign that she saw more than that, at any rate. "_Please_ let me give them to you," she pleaded, eagerly. "I want to."

He shook his head. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said again. "It is hard enough to refuse you anything; but I can't let you do this, for your own sake. What would people think?"

"Oh, fiddle! What business is it of theirs? And how would they know anything about it?"

"I have no doubt there are some who would at once inst.i.tute inquiries.

You probably know such people."

Sally chuckled. "Letty Lambkin might. But what would it matter if they did?"

"I should hate to think that I was responsible for making you talked about."

"Then you won't take them, Fox? Not even if I get down on my knees?"

Again there were tears in her eyes.

Fox shook his head. "I can't," he said gently. "I can't take them on those terms."

Sally sighed and smiled. "So I am repulsed, then. My gifts are spurned."

Fox was very uncomfortable. "But, Sally--" he began.

She brightened suddenly. "I know!" she cried. "I'll lease them to you for ninety-nine years. Isn't that what they do when they can't do anything else? And you'll have to pay--oh, ever so much rent."

He laughed. "All right. I guess that'll be as long as I shall have use for them. But you'll have to charge me enough."

"Oh, I'll charge you enough," she said nodding; "never fear. I'll consult d.i.c.k and take his advice. _Then_ perhaps you'll be satisfied."

"I'll be satisfied," he replied. "I'm very grateful, Sally."

"Nonsense! You're not. You're only complacent because you think you've had your own way, and I didn't mean that you should have it." She took her hands away at last. "Here's Mrs. Morton," she said gently.

CHAPTER IX

What Patty really thought about the provisions of her father's will is not recorded. Indeed, it is doubtful whether she had anything more nearly approaching consecutive thought on the subject than a vague resentment toward Sally and a querulous disposition to find fault with her. For, with the lapse of years, Patty was becoming less and less able to think rationally--to direct her thoughts--or to think consecutively on any subject. She had never been conspicuous for her ability in that direction. What she said was another matter. What business had Sally to benefit by her father's will? A poor relation whom she, Patty, had befriended, no more. It never occurred to her to blame her father any more than it occurred to her to tell the whole truth about that little matter of befriending. Patty thought that she told the truth. She meant to.

There was some excuse for Patty's disappointment. One does not easily rest content with but little more than half a fortune when one has, for years, had reason to expect the whole of it. It was a modest fortune enough, but the fact that it turned out to be nearly twice what Patty had counted upon, and that, consequently, she was left with just about what she had expected, did not make her disappointment any the lighter, but rather the reverse. And she did not stop to consider that she would be relieved of what she was pleased to term the burden of supporting the Ladues, and that she would have, at her own disposal, more money than she had ever had. Not at all. Even when d.i.c.k pointed out to her that very fact, it did not change her feeling.

Somehow, she did not know exactly how, Sally had cheated her out of her birthright. She wouldn't call it stealing, but--

"No," d.i.c.k observed cheerfully. "I should think you had better not call it that. It will be as well if you restrain your speech on the subject."

That was rather a strong remark for d.i.c.k Torrington to make, but he felt strongly where Sally was concerned. He felt strongly where Patty was concerned; but the feeling was different.

It was not strange that, in the face of such feeling on Patty's part, Sally should feel strongly, too. She did feel strongly. She was genuinely distressed about it and would have been glad to give up any benefits under the will, and she went to d.i.c.k and told him so. He tried to dissuade her from taking such a course. There were other aspects of such a case than the mere feeling of one of the heirs about another. Why, wills would be practically upset generally if any one heir, by making a sufficiently strong protest, could, to use d.i.c.k's own words, freeze out the others, and it would be of little use for a man to make a will if many were of Sally's mind. In this case, as usually in such cases, the will expressed the testator's own well-founded intention. Mr. Hazen had expected some such outburst from Patty. Was that to prevent his wish, his will from being carried out?

He earnestly hoped not. All socialists to the contrary, notwithstanding, he was of the opinion that any man, living or dead, should be able to do as he liked with his own; that is, with certain reasonable reservations, which would not apply in the case of her Uncle John.

"I suppose, Sally," he concluded, "that if he had given it to you while he was living, you would have taken it, perhaps?"

"No, indeed," Sally replied indignantly. "Of course I wouldn't. What made you think that, d.i.c.k?"

"To tell the truth," he said, "I didn't think it. Well, would it make any difference in your feeling about it to know that he felt that Miss Patty was not competent to take care of it?"

She shook her head and sighed. "I don't see that it would; I can't unravel the right and wrong of it. If you think that my taking it would have pleased Uncle John, and if you tell me that Patty has as much as she can wish--"

"Oh, not that. But she has enough to enable her to live in luxury the rest of her life."

Sally laughed. "We have great possibilities when it comes to wishing, haven't we? And you advise my taking it?"

"Most certainly."

"Then I will."

"I wonder why," d.i.c.k asked, "you don't want it?"

She hesitated for an instant. "I do," she said, then, laughing again.

"That's just the trouble. If I hadn't wanted it I might have been more ready to take it."

She met Captain Forsyth on the way home. She had just been thinking that, after all, she could let Fox go ahead with his Retreat. She would not have to back out of that bargain, for which she was glad.

And there were other things--

It was at this point in her reflections that Captain Forsyth bore down and hailed her. She answered his hail with a smile and waited.

"I was just going into d.i.c.k Torrington's office," he began, in a gentle roar, "to get him to reason with you. I heard, Sally, that you were thinking of refusing the legacy of your Uncle John."

She nodded. "I was, but--"

"Don't you do it," he shouted earnestly. He could have been heard for a block, if there had been anybody to hear him. "Don't you do it, Sally! You mustn't let Patty scare you out of taking what he meant that you should have--what he wanted you to have. She'll have enough; more than she can take care of. Patty couldn't take proper care of a cat. And John Hazen was very fond of you, Sally. You do this much for him."

"I'm going to, Captain Forsyth," she answered gently. "I've just told d.i.c.k so."