“I protest!” Nelson cried. “That is not true! The reverse is the truth”
“Be still, Nick,” Barham was very white and quiet, “let her tell what she will.”
Something in his calm voice quelled Mrs. Selden and she suddenly became like a whimpering child. “Well, anyway,” she said, “they didn’t get on. He was good to her—yes, I must admit that—but—oh, well, she did waste a lot of money. Poor little Maddy, what gown did you pick out for her, Drew? That white China crêpe?”
“Yes, mother,” and Barham spoke as gently as if she had not arraigned him so cruelly.
“And we must have flowers—lots of valley lilies—and white lilac—Maddy loved white lilac”
“Yes, Mother, that will all be attended to.”
“Attended to! How thoughtless you are of my wishes, Andrew. I want to attend to it myself. No one but me shall pick out Maddy’s flowers”
“I know,” Barham said, patiently, “but don’t you remember, Mother, the florist is coming here to consult you”
“When? When, Drew?”
“This afternoon, at three o’clock. You asked me to order him to do so, you sent me the message by Claudine this morning.”
“So I did—when I first woke up. I dreamed about it. Well, Drew, dear, you’re a good boy. Maybe you didn’t kill Maddy—I mean, maybe”
Gravely listening, and closely watching Mrs. Selden, Hutchins slowly drew his pencil through some lines he had written.
“I think her conversation cannot be reported, Mr. Barham,” he said; “she is not responsible.”
