At last Bob gave a long deep sigh, then one
of those reluctant laughs of happiness yet wet with sobs.
"Well, Jim, dear old Jim, where did you come from? Like all
eavesdroppers, you have heard no good of yourself. Own up, Jim, you did
not hear a word good or bad about yourself, for it is just coming back to
me that we have been selfish, that we have left you entirely out of our
business conference."
We all laughed, and Beulah Sands, with her face a bloom of burning
blushes, said: "Mr. Randolph, we have not settled what it is best to do
about father's affairs."
After a little we did begin to talk business, and finally agreed that
Beulah should write her father, wording her letter as carefully as
possible, to avoid all direct statements, but showing him that she had
made but little headway on the work she had come North to accomplish. Bob
was a changed being now; so, too, was Beulah Sands. Both discussed their
hopes and fears with a frankness in strange contrast to their former
manner. But there was one point on which Bob showed he was holding back. I
finally put it to him bluntly: "Bob, are you working out anything that
looks like real relief for Miss Sands and her father?"
"I don't know how to answer you, Jim.
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