"Yes."
There was a hint of defiance in the Major's tone. Then Sidney took the bull by the horns.
"Dear Uncle Ted, I want to talk to you. We have been so happy together, that a breeze between you and dad is dreadful to me! Why were you so cross at luncheon? Now, tell me why."
She was down on her knees by his side, her hand affectionately on his shoulder. Few could resist Sidney when she exercised her charms.
The Major looked into her sweet pleading face and melted.
"It was my d-dashed leg again!" he said contritely. "This weather plays 'Old Harry' with it, and I've had red hot wires pulling at my nerves! And your father is so d-dashed conservative that he won't uproot a tree, even if it's blocking out an exquisite view. It's the one corner in the garden that would give us the mouth of the river and the sea. Mrs. Norman called my attention to it."
"Yes, we'll see what we can do. I think dad fancied you wanted more timber for your work, and you've had several trees this year, haven't you?"
"Well, and if I'd had fifty, is there any reason why I shouldn't have fifty-one?" demanded the Major, getting choleric again. "Whose are the trees, I'd like to know?"
"I always thought they were father's till to-day," said Sidney quietly. "You've given us quite a shock. I never knew properly how things stood between us. Of course, legally you can turn us out."
"Is it likely I'm going to do that?" said the Major, calming down. "I had no intention of saying what I did. Vernon is a fool to take notice of it. He had no right to repeat it to you."