“Yes, Ma’am!” said Robert respectfully, “I certainly will!… I’ll tell him!… That is certainly a remarkable thing…. Ah-hah-hah!… Beats all I ever heard of!… Ah-hah-hah,” he kept bowing and smiling to the young woman and her husband, and muttering “ah-hah-hah!… Pleased to have met you…. Got to go now: some one over here I’ve got to see… but I’ll certainly tell him… ah-hah-hah…. Gene, I’ll see you on the train…. Good-bye…. Good-bye…. Glad to have met you all…. Ah-hah-hah…. Certainly a remarkable thing…. Good-bye!” and turning abruptly, he left them, walking rapidly along at his stiff, prim, curiously lunging stride.
The younger woman looked after the boy’s tall form as he departed, stroking her chin in a reflective and abstracted manner:
“So that’s Judge Robert Weaver’s son, is it?… Well,” she went on, nodding her head vigorously in a movement of affirmation. “He’s all right…. He’s got good manners…. He looks and acts like a gentleman…. You can see he’s had a good bringing up…. I like him!” she declared positively again.
“Why, yes,” said the mother, who had been following the tall retreating form with a reflective look, her hands loose-folded at her waist—“Why, yes,” she continued, nodding her head in a thoughtful and conceding manner that was a little comical in its implications—“He’s a good-looking all-right sort of a boy…. And he certainly seems to be intelligent enough.” She was silent for a moment, pursing her lips thoughtfully and then concluded with a little nod—“Well, now, the boy may be all right…. I’m not saying that he isn’t…. He may turn out all right, after all.”
“All right?” her daughter said, frowning a little and showing a little annoyance, but with a faint lewd grin around the corners of her mouth—“what do you mean by all right, Mama? Why, of course he’s all right…. What makes you think he’s not?”
The other woman was silent for another moment: when she spoke again, her manner was tinged with portent, and she turned and looked at her daughter a moment in a sudden, straight and deadly fashion before she spoke:
“Now, child,” she said, “I’m going to tell you: perhaps everything will turn out all right for that boy—I hope it does—but—”
“Oh, my God!” the younger woman laughed hoarsely but with a shade of anger, and turning, prodded her brother stiffly in the ribs. “Now we’ll get it!” she sniggered, prodding him, “k-k-k-k-k! What do you call it?” she said
