"Hello, Hendrick," was the young man's cheery greeting. "Nice lot of leaves you have there."
"So?" ebbed from Hendrick, who did not even so much as look up from his work. Hendrick was a human clam.
"Mrs. Gray in?"
A grunt that signified yes.
"You're as loquacious as ever, Hendrick."
A mere nod.
Brewster let himself in with his own latch key, threw his hat on a chair and unceremoniously bolted into the library. Margaret was seated near a window, a book in her lap. The first evidence of unbiased friendship he had seen in days shone in her smile. She took his hand and said simply, "We are glad to welcome the prodigal to his home again."
"I remind myself more of the fatted calf."
His first self-consciousness had gone.
"I thought of that, but I didn't dare say it," she laughed. "One must be respectful to rich relatives."
"Hang your rich relatives, Peggy; if I thought that this money would make any difference I would give it up this minute."
"Nonsense, Monty," she said. "How could it make a difference? But you must admit it
