Mrs. Duncan gave an audible sniff of disbelief. "Oh, I think that he does. We tried to get him to do something before we took the matter up with the State Board of Health, but he wouldn't. They have taken samples of the water and have decided that the waste makes it unfit for the use of human beings. So that is settled." "If that is true why don't they take the matter up with my father? Why should you come to him?" asked Virginia, suspiciously. "Because," Mrs. Duncan continued, "your father is rich and powerful, and even if the Board of Health orders him to stop running waste into the river he may take the matter into court and fight it for years. That is what we are worrying about now. Must Amity go on drinking poisoned water while your father and the Board of Health fight in the court? Our purpose is to attempt to persuade him not to contest the decision of the Board." "If my father is certain that the waste from his mill is making people sick, he surely will stop running it into the river." "It is the only decent thing for him to do," agreed Mrs. Duncan, greatly mollified by the attitude of the girl. "Perhaps the Board of Health has not notified him of its final decision," she conceded. "Of course our Club is greatly interested and we have kept in close touch with the case. Our representatives have called frequently at the office of the Board." She laughed. "We even had a committee which used to go with Mr. Joe Curtis, the Board's representative, every time he took samples of water at Amity." "Who took the samples?" asked Virginia, instantly alert. "A young man by the name of Curtis. He used to come out on a motorcycle. He worked for the Board of Health." "I'll take the matter up with my father, tonight," Virginia promised the women when they left. "You can be sure that he will do the right thing about it." Her old confidence in her father surged up in the presence of the callers; but after they had gone the remembrance of the morning's episode, with her new realization of her father, persisted in returning. She caught herself wondering if it were possible that he, knowing that the waste from his mill was polluting the water and causing sickness, had done nothing about it. Loyally she fought back the thought. He wouldn't do that--a wicked thing. He didn't know the truth--if the water _was_ bad. That was the point. Before she talked to him she ought to be certain about it. Joe Curtis knew and could tell her the truth. Her father, hearing it from her, would be glad to do the right thing. Yet, regardless of her hopeful reasoning, the memories of the morning--of her father's temper torn face in all of its selfish cruelty of expression--came back to her and filled her with strange indefinite forebodings of evil. So, it was a different Virginia who came to Joe Curtis that afternoon. It was one in whose face there were vague shadows of anxiety and sadness which, regardless of pathetic efforts at disguise, spoke of an unquiet heart.