Kent shook his head.

“I shouldn’t put it quite so strongly.  At the same time, I am not the person to advise you.”

The shrewd eyes looked up at him quickly.

“Would you mind telling me why, Mr. Kent?”

“Not in the least.  I am an interested party.  For weeks Mr. Loring and I have been striving by all means to prevent transfers of the stock from the hands of the original holders.  I don’t want to advise you to your hurt; but to tell you to sell might be to undo all that has been done.”

“Then you are still hoping to get the railroad out of Major Guilford’s hands?”

“Yes.”

“And in that case the price of the stock will go up again?”

“That is just the difficulty.  It may be a long time recovering.”

“Do you think the sale of my three thousand shares would make any difference?” she asked.

“There is reason to fear that it would make all the difference.”

She was silent for a time, and when she spoke again Kent realized that he was coming to know an entirely unsuspected side of Elinor’s mother.

“It makes it pretty hard for me,” she said slowly.  “This little drib of railroad stock is all that my girls have left out of what their father willed them.  I want to save it if I can.”

“So do I,” said David Kent, frankly; “and for the same reason.”

Mrs. Brentwood confined herself to a dry “Why?”

“Because I have loved your elder daughter well and truly ever since that summer at the foot of Old Croydon, Mrs. Brentwood, and her happiness and well-being concern me very nearly.”

“You are pretty plain-spoken, Mr. Kent.  I suppose you know Elinor is to be married to Brookes Ormsby?” Mrs. Brentwood was quite herself again.

Kent dexterously equivocated.

“I know they have been engaged for some time,” he said; but the small quibble availed him nothing.

“Which one of them was it told you it was broken off?” she inquired.

He smiled in spite of the increasing gravity of the situation.

“You may be sure it was not Miss Elinor.”

“Humph!” said Mrs. Brentwood.  “She didn’t tell me, either.  ’Twas Brookes Ormsby, and he said he wanted to begin all over again, or something of that sort.  He is nothing but a foolish boy, for all his hair is getting thin.”

“He is a very honorable man,” said Kent.

“Because he is giving you another chance?  I don’t mind telling you plainly that it won’t do any good, Mr. Kent.”

“Why?” he asked in his turn.

“For several reasons:  one is that Elinor will never marry without my consent; another is that she can’t afford to marry a poor man.”

Kent rose.

“I am glad to know how you feel about it, Mrs. Brentwood:  nevertheless, I shall ask you to give your consent some day, God willing.”

He expected an outburst of some sort, and was telling himself that he had fairly provoked it, when she cut the ground from beneath his feet.