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Redfern’s son, of Montreal. And his father wants him to go back to
him.”
Uncle Benjamin made a queer sound. Cousin Stickles took her
black-bordered handkerchief away from her eyes and stared at Valancy. A
queer gleam suddenly shot into Mrs. Frederick’s stone-grey orbs.
“Dr. Redfern—not the Purple Pill man?” she said.
Valancy nodded. “He’s John Foster, too—the writer of those nature
books.”
“But—but—” Mrs. Frederick was visibly agitated, though not over the
thought that she was the mother-in-law of John Foster—“_Dr. Redfern is
a millionaire_!”
Uncle Benjamin shut his mouth with a snap.
“Ten times over,” he said.
Valancy nodded.
“Yes. Barney left home years ago—because of—of some
trouble—some—disappointment. Now he will likely go back. So you see—I
had to come home. He doesn’t love me. I can’t hold him to a bond he was
tricked into.”
Uncle Benjamin looked incredibly sly.
“Did he say so? Does he want to get rid of you?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since I found out. But I tell you—he only
married me out of pity—because I asked him to—because he thought it
would only be for a little while.”
Mrs. Frederick and Cousin Stickles both tried to speak, but Uncle
Benjamin waved a hand at them and frowned portentously.
“Let _me_ handle this,” wave and frown seemed to say. To Valancy:
“Well, well, dear, we’ll talk it all over later. You see, we don’t
quite understand everything yet. As Cousin Stickles says, you should
have confided in us before. Later on—I dare say we can find a way out
of this.”
“You think Barney can easily get a divorce, don’t you?” said Valancy
eagerly.
Uncle Benjamin silenced with another wave the exclamation of horror he
knew was trembling on Mrs. Frederick’s lips.
“Trust to me, Valancy. Everything will arrange itself. Tell me this,
Dossie. Have you been happy up back? Was Sr.—Mr. Redfern good to you?”
“I have been very happy and Barney was very good to me,” said Valancy,
as if reciting a lesson. She remembered when she studied grammar at
school she had disliked the past and perfect tenses. They had always
seemed so pathetic. “I have been”—it was all over and done with.
“Then don’t worry, little girl.” How amazingly paternal Uncle Benjamin
was! “Your family will stand behind you. We’ll see what can be done.”
“Thank you,” said Valancy dully. Really, it was quite decent of Uncle
Benjamin. “Can I go and lie down a little while? I’m—I’m—tired.”
“Of course you’re tired.” Uncle Benjamin patted her hand gently—very
gently. “All worn out and nervous. Go and lie down, by all means.
You’ll see things in quite a different light after you’ve had a good
sleep.”
He held the door open. As she went through he whispered, “What is the
best way to keep a man’s love?”
Valancy smiled wanly. But she had come back to the old life—the old
shackles. “What?” she asked as meekly as of yore.
“Not to return it,” said Uncle Benjamin with a chuckle. He shut the
door and rubbed his hands. Nodded and smiled mysteriously round the
room.
“Poor little Doss!” he said pathetically.
“Do you really suppose that—Snaith—can actually be Dr. Redfern’s son?”
gasped Mrs. Frederick.
“I see no reason for doubting it. She says Dr. Redfern has been there.
Why, the man is rich as wedding-cake. Amelia, I’ve always believed
there was more in Doss than most people thought. You kept her down too
much—repressed her. She never had a chance to show what was in her. And
now she’s landed a millionaire for a husband.”
“But—” hesitated Mrs. Frederick, “he—he—they told terrible tales about
him.”
“All gossip and invention—all gossip and invention. It’s always been a
mystery to me why people should be so ready to invent and circulate
slanders about other people they know absolutely nothing about. I can’t
understand why you paid so much attention to gossip and surmise. Just
because he didn’t choose to mix up with everybody, people resented it.
I was surprised to find what a decent fellow he seemed to be that time