You're goin' to leave me pretty soon; let's not spend our last days
together frettin' about money. That mortgage is all right. Maybe the
extra loan will be, too. Maybe--why, maybe Mr. Kendrick would lend it,
if I asked him."
"Mr. Kendrick? Why, Auntie, Mr. Kendrick has no money, or only a very
little. He is doing well--very well, considering how short a time he
has practised his profession here, but I'm sure he has no money to lend.
Why, he tells me--"
The expression of Mrs. Barnes' face must have conveyed a meaning; at any
rate Emily's sentence broke off in the middle. She colored and seemed
embarrassed.
Thankful smiled. "Yes," she observed, drily, "I notice he tells you a
lot of things--a whole lot more than he does anybody else. Generally
speakin', he is about the closest-mouthed young man about his personal
affairs that I ever run across. However, I ain't jealous, not a mite.
And 'twa'n't of him I was speakin'; 'twas his cousin, Mr. E. Holliday
Kendrick. He's got money enough, I guess. Maybe he might make a loan on
decent security. He's a possibility. I'll think him over."
Mr. E. Holliday and his doings were still East Wellmouth's favorite
conversational topics. The great man was preparing to close his summer
house and return to New York. His family had already gone--to Lenox,
where they were to remain for a few weeks and then journey to Florida.
E. Holliday remained, several of the servants remaining with him, but
he, too, was to go very soon.
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