"Well, I should say!" and Eugene laughs immoderately. "A man who travels round the world like a prince, who buys everything he chooses, joins exploring expeditions with lords and marquises, keeps a maid for his daughter,—you have not arrived at that dignity, mother mine?"
"I do not think the maid for my daughter will cost more than one fast horse, Eugene."
"O boys, do not quarrel!" entreats their mother.
"I hope I shall never quarrel," says Floyd, in a steadfast, reassuring tone. "I could lay down my father's charge, he gives me that privilege if I find I cannot save the business without spending my private fortune. If you would rather have me withdraw——"
"Oh, no! no!" cries his mother. She has felt for some time that they were steadily going to ruin under Eugene's régime, but he is her idol and she loves him with a curious pride that could deny him nothing; would not even blame him, and wishes him to be prosperous. "I really think you would have no right, Floyd."
"Then if I must work, if I must give my time, interest, and money, I shall have to know how everything stands. I shall have to provide to the best of my judgment. You must all trust in me, and believe that I am acting for your welfare."
There is no affirmative to this, and Floyd feels really hurt. Eugene sits rolling the corner of the rug under his foot with a kind of vicious force, and is sulkily silent.
"Your father expected, Floyd——" and Mrs. Grandon buries her face in her hands, giving way to tears.
"My dear mother, I shall do everything my father desired, if it is in my power. Eugene," suddenly, "how does Mr. Wilmarth propose to meet this note?"
"Don't worry about the note. You must admit that he knows more about the business than you."