“See here, Wick,” said Donald, his anger rising, “you'd better drop this. You don't know what you are talking about.”
“I know you spoiled my chances once and you are not going to spoil them again. You've got to leave Miss Connie alone. You've got to promise me—”
“I promise you nothing.”
They had reached the hitching block and Donald got out of the buggy and, not waiting for his companion, went up the walk to the house. The peace of the old place wrapped him round like the folds of a warm garment He forgot Noah, and the pursuing troubles; he forgot everything except that Thornwood, with all its memories and traditions, was for the present his, held in sacred trust until that time when he could give it back to the one who loved it best.
“Why, it's Cousin Don!” cried Connie who had heard the wheels and come to investigate. “I never was so glad to see anybody in my life. I thought it was Mr. Wicker!”
“Cheer up! He's hitching his horse at the block now.”
“How tiresome! I thought we left him in town yesterday. I don't believe you are a bit glad to have us for a neighbor. Why didn't you come over last night? I haven't seen you for four days!”
“You haven't missed anything, Connie. I've been down and out.”
“Everybody has! It's too stupid for words. Since the trial and the bank failure I haven't been able to get a smile out of anybody! I hope the Turtle won't be grumpy.”
“Who is the Turtle?”