I know nothing
about the family, but I don't care for Willing. And we've had enough of
young Thatcher. Marian's already seen too much of him."
"Allen's a perfectly nice fellow. It isn't fair to dislike him on his
father's account. Allen isn't a bit like his father; but even if he were
you used to think well enough of Ed Thatcher."
This shot was well aimed, and Bassett blinked, but he felt that he must
exercise his parental authority. If he had been culpable in neglecting
Blackford he could still take a hand in Marian's affairs.
"So I did," he replied. "But I'm going to telegraph Marian to come home.
What's the Willings' address?"
"Oh, you'll find it on a picture postal card somewhere about. I'll write
Marian to come home; but I wouldn't telegraph if I were you, Morton. And
if you don't like my employing Miss Garrison, you can get rid of her: I
merely felt that _something_ had to be done. I turn it all over to you,"
she ended mournfully.
"Oh, I have no objections to Miss Garrison. We'll see how Blackford gets
on with her."
Bassett was troubled by other things that summer than his son's
education. Harwood's declaration of war in the White River Canneries
matter had proved wholly disagreeable, and Fitch had not been able to
promise that the case might not come to trial, to Bassett's
discomfiture. It was a hot summer, and Bassett had spent a good deal of
time in his office at the Boordman Building, where Harwood's name no
longer adorned the door of Room 66.
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