Part 51 (1/2)
”Edgar told me I needn't be afraid of you,” she said.
George smiled.
”I can understand his confidence, though it had a better foundation than my good-nature. I wonder whether I might venture to say that he has shown remarkably good sense?”
”I'm glad you don't think he has been very foolish,” replied the girl, and it was obvious to George that she understood the situation.
He made her a little grave bow.
”What I've said, I'm ready to stick to. I'm a friend of Edgar's, and that carried an obligation.”
”Yes,” she a.s.sented, ”but it was because you are a friend of his and, in a way, represent his people in England, that I was a little uneasy.”
Her speech implied a good deal and George admired her candor.
”Well,” he said, ”so far as I am concerned, you must never feel anything of the kind again. But I think you should have known it was quite unnecessary.”
She gave him a grateful glance and soon afterward her father came in.
”Guess we'll take a smoke in the back office,” he said to George.
George followed him, and thought he understood why he was led into the little untidy room strewn with packets of goods, though his host had a fine commodious house. Taunton would not attempt to dissociate himself from his profession; he meant to be taken for what he was, but he knew his value. He was a gaunt, elderly man: as far as his general appearance went, a typical inhabitant of a remote and half-developed western town, though there was a hint of authority in his face. Giving George an excellent cigar, he pointed to a chair.
”Now,” he began, ”we must have a talk. When your partner first came hanging round my store, buying things he didn't want, I was kind of short with him. Helen helps me now and then with the books, and he seemed to know when she came in.”
”I noticed he came home in a rather bad temper once or twice,” George said with a laugh. ”I used to wonder, when he produced sardine cans at supper, but after a while I began to understand.”
”Well,” continued Taunton, ”I didn't intend to have any blamed Percy trying to turn my girl's head, until I knew what he meant. I'd n.o.body to talk it over with--I lost her mother long ago--so I kind of froze him out, until one day he came dawdling in and asked if he might take Helen to Jim Haxton's dance.
”'Does she know you have come to me about it?' I said.
”'Can't say,' he told me coolly, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 'I haven't mentioned the matter yet; I thought I'd ask you first.'
”'S'pose I object?' I said.
”'Then,' he allowed quite tranquil, 'the thing will have to be considered. There's not the slightest reason why you should object.'
”I'd a notion I could agree with him--I liked the way he talked--and I told him Helen could go, but the next time he called he was to walk right into the office instead of hanging round the counter. I asked him what he'd done with all the canned truck he'd bought, and he said he was inclined to think his partner had eaten most of it. Since then he's been over pretty often, and I figured it was time I gave you a hint.”
”Thanks,” responded George. ”He was, in a way, placed in my hands, but I've no real control over him.”
”That's so; he's of age. What I felt was this--I've nothing against West, but my girl's good enough for anybody, and I can't have his people in England looking down on her and making trouble. If they're not satisfied, they had better call him back right now. There's to be no high-toned condescension in this matter.”
”I don't think you need be afraid of that,” said George. ”It would be altogether uncalled for. It's very likely that I shall be consulted, and I'll have pleasure in telling his people that I consider him a lucky man.”
”There's another point--has West any means?”
”I believe about five thousand dollars could be raised to put him on a farm.”
Taunton nodded.