"My daughter," she repeated, with a short laugh, which, however, ended with a note of defiance. "Of course you don't know. Well,"she added half aggressively, and yet with the air of hurrying over a compromising and inexplicable weakness, "the long and short of it is I've got a little girl down at the Convent of Santa Clara, and have had--there! I've been taking care of her--GOOD care, too, boys--for some time. And now I want to put things square for her for the future. See? I want to make over to her all my property--it's nigh on to seventy-five thousand dollars, for Bob Snelling put me up to getting those water lots a year ago--and, you see, I'll have to have regular guardians, trustees, or whatever you call 'em, to take care of the money for her.""Who's her father?" asked the Mayor.
"What's that to do with it?" she said impetuously.
"Everything--because he's her natural guardian.""Suppose he isn't known? Say dead, for instance.""Dead will do," said the Mayor gravely. "Yes, dead will do,"repeated Colonel Pendleton. After a pause, in which the two men seemed to have buried this vague relative, the Mayor looked keenly at the woman.
"Kate, have you and Bob Ridley had a quarrel?""Bob Ridley knows too much to quarrel with me," she said briefly.
"Then you are doing this for no motive other than that which you tell me?""Certainly. That's motive enough--ain't it?""Yes." The Mayor took his feet off his companion's chair and sat upright. Colonel Pendleton did the same, also removing his cigar from his lips. "I suppose you'll think this thing over?" he added.
"No--I want it done NOW--right here--in this office.""But you know it will be irrevocable."
"That's what I want it--something might happen afterwards.""But you are leaving nothing for yourself, and if you are going to devote everything to this daughter and lead a different life, you'll"--"Who said I was?"
The two men paused, and looked at her. "Look here, boys, you don't understand. From the day that paper is signed, I've nothing to do with the child. She passes out of my hands into yours, to be schooled, educated, and made a rich girl out of--and never to know who or what or where I am. She doesn't know now. I haven't given her and myself away in that style--you bet! She thinks I'm only a friend. She hasn't seen me more than once or twice, and not to know me again. Why, I was down there the other day, and passed her walking out with the Sisters and the other scholars, and she didn't know me--though one of the Sisters did. But they're mum--THEY are, and don't let on. Why, now I think of it, YOU were down there, Jack, presiding in big style as Mr. Mayor at the exercises. You must have noticed her. Little thing, about nine--lot of hair, the same color as mine, and brown eyes. White and yellow sash. Had a necklace on of real pearls I gave her. I BOUGHT THEM, you understand, myself at Tucker's--gave two hundred and fifty dollars for them--and a big bouquet of white rosebuds and lilacs I sent her.""I remember her now on the platform," said the Mayor gravely. "So that is your child?""You bet--no slouch either. But that's neither here nor there.