While she was taking her afternoon nap, the two ladies sat out on the
porch, gravely discussing all she had told them.

"It doesn't seem right for me to allow her to go there," said Mrs.
Sherman, "after the way papa has treated us. I can never forgive him
for all the terrible things he has said about Jack, and I know Jack can
never be friends with him on account of what he has said about me. He
has been so harsh and unjust that I don't want my little Lloyd to have
anything to do with him. I wouldn't for worlds have him think that I
encouraged her going there."

"Well, yes, I know," answered her aunt, slowly. "But there are some
things to consider besides your pride, Elizabeth. There's the child
herself, you know. Now that Jack has lost so much, and your prospects
are so uncertain, you ought to think of her interests. It would be a
pity for Locust to go to strangers when it has been in your family for
so many generations. That's what it certainly will do unless something
turns up to interfere. Old Judge Woodard told me himself that your
father had made a will, leaving everything he owns to some medical
institution. Imagine Locust being turned into a sanitarium or a
training-school for nurses!"

"Dear old place!" said Mrs. Sherman, with tears in her eyes. "No one
ever had a happier childhood than I passed under these old locusts.
Every tree seems like a friend. I would be glad for Lloyd to enjoy the
place as I did."

"I'd let her go as much as she pleases, Elizabeth. She's so much like
the old Colonel that they ought to understand each other, and get along
capitally. Who knows, it might end in you all making up some day."