"Mr. Jelnik!" said Miss Hopkins, with an accent. "Oh, I see.
Well--he is a neighbor, of course. Certainly if Mr. Jelnik selected
that particular spot for the statue--he of all people has the best
right to do so--and to have his wishes considered."
"Of course. He has lived abroad, and seen everything of art there is
to see," Alicia agreed, placidly. Which wasn't at all what Miss
Hopkins meant.
We could see those two women turning the thing over and over in
their minds--Nicholas Jelnik, last heir and descendant of Richard
Hynds, tactily (perhaps even gladly; for had they not just witnessed
the behavior of Doctor Richard Geddes?) accepting the interlopers in
the house of his fathers! Nicholas Jelnik selecting the site for the
statue Richard had brought home in pride, and Freeman had buried in
sorrow! Miss Hopkins's stare dismissed me, shifted to Alicia, and
discovered the cause of this shameless surrender of family pride.
Her lips tightened. With politely cold hopes that we should like
Hyndsville, and warmer hopes that we would join the missionary
society, they left us.
"Wedge Number One: The poor dear heathen, Sophy!" smiled Alicia.
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