The Brimming Cup

"Pretty fine of them!" murmured the older man dutifully, to the lady.

Vincent went on, "Oh, it's only the smallest way for them to show their

sense of his life-time devotion to their interests. There's no

estimating what we all owe him, for his steadiness and loyalty and good

judgment, especially during that hard period, near the beginning. You

know, when all electrical businesses were so entirely on trial still.

Nobody knew whether they were going to succeed or not. My father was one

of the Directors from the first and I've been brought up in the

tradition of how much the small beginning Company is indebted to Mr.

Welles, during the years when they went down so near the edge of ruin

that they could see the receiver looking in through the open door."

Welles moved protestingly. He never had liked the business and he didn't

like reminders that he owed his present comfort to it. Besides this was

reading his own epitaph. He thought he must be looking very foolish to

Mrs. Crittenden. Vincent continued, "But of course that's of no great

importance up here. What's more to the purpose is that Mr. Welles is a

great lover of country life and growing things, and he's been forced to

keep his nose on a city grindstone all his life until just now. I think

I can guarantee that you'll find him a very appreciative neighbor,

especially if you have plenty of gladioli in your garden."

This last was one of what Welles called "Vincent's sidewipes," which he

could inlay so deftly that they seemed an integral part of the

conversation. He wondered what Mrs. Crittenden would say, if Vincent

ever got through his gabble and gave her a chance. She was turning to

him now, smiling, and beginning to speak. What a nice voice she had! How

nice that she should have such a voice!

"I'm more than glad to have you both come in to see me, and I'm

delighted that Mr. Welles is going to settle here. But Mr. . . ." she

hesitated an instant, recalled the name, and went on, "Mr. Marsh doesn't

need to explain you any more. It's evident that you don't know Ashley,

or you'd realize that I've already heard a great deal more about you

than Mr. Marsh would be likely to tell me, very likely a good deal more

than is true. I know for instance, . . ." she laughed and corrected

herself, ". . . at least I've been told, what the purchase price of the

house was. I know how Harry Wood's sister-in-law's friend told you about

Ashley and the house in the first place. I know how many years you were

in the service of the Company, and how your pension was voted

unanimously by the Directors, and about the silver loving-cup your

fellow employees in the office gave you when you retired; and indeed

every single thing about you, except the exact relation of the elderly

invalid to whose care you gave up so generously so much of your life;

I'm not sure whether I she was an aunt or a second-cousin." She paused

an instant to give them a chance to comment on this, but finding them

still quite speechless, she went on. "And now I know another thing, that

you like gladioli, and that is a real bond."