"
Even on the verge of tears as she was, she could not forbear
smiling a little at this proclamation of complete self-effacement.
"I fear I must pay some attention to you," she said, "if I am to
confide in you and--and perhaps ask your help, your advice,
afterwards. I have reached a point when I must ask some one's
advice; I have thought myself into a maze and I don't know what to
do--I don't know WHAT to do. I have no near relatives, no friends
here in Orham--"
Jed held up a protesting hand.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Armstrong," he stammered; "I don't know as you
recollect, probably it might not have meant as much to you as it
did to me; but a spell ago you said somethin' about countin' me as
a friend."
"I know I did. And I meant it. You have been very kind, and
Barbara is so fond of you. . . . Well, perhaps you can advise me,
at least you can suggest--or--or--help me to think. Will you?"
Jed passed his hand across his chin. It was obvious that her
asking his counsel was simply a last resort, a desperate, forlorn
hope. She had no real confidence in his ability to help. He would
have been the last to blame her for this; her estimate of his
capabilities was like his own, that was all.
"W-e-e-ll," he observed, slowly, "as to givin' my advice, when a
man's asked to give away somethin' that's worth nothin' the least
he can do is say yes and try to look generous, I cal'late.
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