Page:Our Little Girl (1923).pdf/119

 Loamford, it developed, had left far more money than anyone would have thought. His salary was not large, but his investments had been admirable. His evenings with the sharply pointed pencils and the little looks apparently had not been devoted entirely to grocery accounts. He had been a shrewd trader. He had left his estate in valuable bonds and a few tried and dividend paying stocks. There would be ample income for almost anything the family cared to do. If they cared to, they could dispose of this large house and move into an apartment. They could afford the best.

Here Mrs. Loamford began to weep and to murmur that her husband had been such a good man.

Dorothy’s musical career could be continued easily, Uncle Elliott added. Loamford had left several thousands a year especially for this purpose. His will was a model of its kind. His estate was in perfect shape. There were no debts.

They gazed out of the window. Then the telephone rang. It was Arnold. Would they care to take a little drive? Uncle Elliott thought that it would be an excellent idea for them to be out in the air for an hour or so. They hated to trouble Arnold, but it was so kind of him. Was he sure that they weren’t imposing on him?

Arnold arrived in an amazingly short time. He took them up into Pelham, where he suggested tea at an almost deserted road-house. It was a good idea. Arnold gossiped pleasantly of his friends. He ventured a few jests and was rewarded with subdued smiles. All felt better on the way back. Turning from Broadway on 88th Street, they saw Tommy walking up the avenue. He bowed. Arnold waved to him. Dorothy and Mrs. Loamford nodded.

“Funny goof,” commented Arnold. “One of the most