Part 19 (1/2)
”I've nothing more to say, Mr. Ga.s.sett.”
Mr. Ga.s.sett did not take the trouble to say good-by. He clapped his hat on his head and banged out the front door.
Mrs. Morton seemed paralyzed with astonishment.
”And he is a member of our church! Alice, I believe you are right--I believe he did steal them. He didn't act like an honest man.”
So Alice won one more friend in the Morton family.
They poured the tale into Dr. Morton's ears when he came home to dinner.
”Well, Alice, I'm afraid you have a law suit on your hands. Have you kept your father's papers?”
”Yes, I've got a box full of old letters and papers.”
”She'll have to have a lawyer, won't she?” asked Mrs. Morton anxiously.
”Oh, dear, how can I ever pay one?” Alice clasped her hands in despair at this new thought.
”You might get someone to take the case on a contingent fee. You don't understand--do you? Lawyers often take cases for poor clients with the understanding that they are to have part of the money if they win the case, but get no pay if they lose it.”
”Oh, that would be fine! Do you suppose I could get somebody that way?”
Chicken Little and Ernest had been interested listeners.
”d.i.c.k Harding's a lawyer,” observed Ernest.
”He is--and a mighty good one for a young chap,” replied his father.
”Yes, and he's awful sorry for Alice, too. He said she was a plucky girl,” Chicken Little broke in.
Alice blushed and Dr. Morton laughed.
”Here's a lawyer ready to your hand, Alice. But Ga.s.sett may think better of his threat when he cools off, though I think you may look for trouble.”
The following evening Dr. Morton handed a letter to Alice.
”O dear me,” she said, ”do you suppose it's from Mr. Ga.s.sett? No, it's from Cincinnati. Why it has 'Fletcher Iron Works' in the corner--I wonder--you don't suppose it could be from Uncle Joseph, do you?”
”Maybe he's dead and has left you something, Alice,” suggested Dr.
Morton.
Alice hurriedly opened the envelope, her amazement increasing as she read.
”Why, I can't understand--why how strange! Chicken Little Jane, did you write to Uncle Joseph?” she demanded, turning suddenly to Jane.
Poor Chicken Little sadly needed d.i.c.k Harding for reinforcements during the next three minutes. The entire family turned astonished and accusing eyes upon her, and it was plain to be seen by her flushed and startled face that she was guilty.
But before either Dr. or Mrs. Morton could demand an explanation, Alice had dropped down beside her and was hugging her tight, half laughing, half crying.