"Then you mean to make her understand what he is doing?"
"No," said Mrs. Hastings; "I want you to do it. I've reasons for believing that your influence would go further with her than mine. For one thing, I fancy she is feeling rather ashamed of herself."
Agatha looked thoughtful. She had certainly not credited Sally with possessing any fine sense of honour, but she was willing to accept her companion's assurance.
"The situation," she pointed out, "is rather a delicate one. You wish to expose Gregory's conduct to the girl he is going to marry, though, as you admit, the explanation will probably be painful to her. Can't you understand that the course suggested is a particularly difficult and repugnant one--to me?"
"I've no doubt of it," said Mrs. Hastings. "Still, I think it must be adopted--for several reasons. In the first place, I fancy that if we can pull Gregory up now we will save him from involving himself irretrievably. After all, perhaps, you owe him the effort. Then I think that we all owe something to Harry, and we can, at least, endeavour to carry his wishes out. He laid down what was to be done with his possessions in a will, and he never could have anticipated Gregory dissipating them as he is doing."
The last reason, as she had foreseen, proved irresistible to Agatha, and she made a sign of concurrence.
"If you will drive me over I will do what I can," she said.
Now she had succeeded Mrs. Hastings lost no time, and they set out for the Creightons' homestead next day, while soon after they reached it she tactfully contrived that Sally should be left alone with Agatha. They stood outside the house together when the latter turned to her companion.
"Sally," she said, "there is something that I must tell you."
Sally glanced at her face, and then walked quietly forward until the log barn hid them from the house. Then she sat down upon a pile of straw in its shadow and signed to Agatha that she should take a place beside her.
"Now," she said sharply, "you can go on; it's about Gregory?"
Agatha, who found it very difficult to begin, though she had been well primed by Hastings on the previous evening, sat down amidst the straw, and looked about her for a moment or two. It was a hot afternoon, dazzlingly bright, and almost breathlessly still. In front of her the dark green wheat rolled waist-high, and beyond it the vast sweep of whitened grass rolled back to the sky-line flooded with light. Far away a team and a waggon slowly moved across it, but that was the only sign of life, and no sound from the house reached them to break the heavy stillness.