Barry alone with her, unsuspecting and unprotected. It seemed a bit cowardly on his part, much as he might dread to see the hurricane. He half hoped that Barry would say something that would make it necessary for him to remain. But Barry said nothing of the kind. He simply shook hands and remarked that he would doubtless overtake the minister on the way back, and added that his errand was about done anyway, with the exception of handing Mrs. Bradley the check and getting her signature to the voucher, and he was sure that that could be done without ministerial help. Indeed, in his own mind, he was rather pleased than otherwise at the prospect of being alone for a few minutes with this remarkable woman, even with the stark body of her dead husband lying grimly in the next room.
So the Reverend Mr. Farrar went his way. The door closed behind him, and Mrs. Bradley and Barry turned back into the room, but they did not resume their seats. He lifted the flap of the envelope which he still held in his hand, and drew forth a check and a voucher.
"If you will kindly sign this receipt," he said, "I will hand you the check. I brought my fountain pen with me. I didn't know how you might be fixed here for writing materials."
"That was very thoughtful of you," she remarked.
She took the check and looked at it carefully.
"And is this," she asked, "your father's signature?"
"Yes. I sign checks only in his absence."
"And—might I keep this as a souvenir? He is such a great and good man."
"Why, you have to give up the check, you know, when you get your money."
"Indeed! How unfortunate!"
She took the voucher and examined it in its turn.
"And do I sign this?" she asked.
"Yes, if you please."
