gave him the newspapers—that is, made him publisher. Mr. Donald liked that. He had been interested in journalism in Paris. When he found out how terrible everything was here—in civic affairs and so on—he started that reform campaign. He didn’t know—he had been away since he was a boy—he didn’t know—”
“He didn’t know his father was in it as deep as anybody else,” I helped her along.
She squirmed a little over her examination of the finger prints, didn’t contradict me, and went on:
“ Mr. Elihu and he had a quarrel. Mr. Elihu told him to stop stirring things up, but he wouldn’t stop. Maybe he would have stopped if he had known—all there was to know. But I don’t suppose it would ever have occurred to him that his father was really seriously implicated. And his father wouldn’t tell him. I suppose it would be hard for a father to tell a son a thing like that. He threatened to take the papers away from Mr. Donald. I don’t know whether he intended to or not. But he was taken sick again, and everything went along as it did.”