Do you know anything about them, Mr. Spindler?"
His face grew serious. "No more than I know of the others," he said
apologetically. After a moment's hesitation he went on: "Now you speak
of it, it seems to me I've heard that my niece was di-vorced. But," he
added, brightening up, "I've heard that she was popular."
Mrs. Price gave a short laugh, and was silent for a few minutes. Then
this sublime little woman looked up at him. What he might have seen in
her eyes was more than he expected, or, I fear, deserved. "Cheer up, Mr.
Spindler," she said manfully. "I'll see you through this thing, don't
you mind! But don't you say anything about--about--this Vigilance
Committee business to anybody. Nor about your niece--it was your niece,
wasn't it?--being divorced. Charley (the late Mr. Price) had a queer
sort of sister, who--but that's neither here nor there! And your niece
mayn't come, you know; or if she does, you ain't bound to bring her out
to the general company."
At parting, Spindler, in sheer gratefulness, pressed her hand, and
lingered so long over it that a little color sprang into the widow's
brown cheek.
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