CHAPTER XIII
THE HEIRESS
When Robert Nixon ran whistling into the hotel and took the stairs two at a time up to his room, he met his mother just coming in from the upper veranda, where she had had the interview with her brother.
“I want to see you, Robert,” she said, so solemnly that he looked amused.
“Your tone takes me back to childhood’s unhappy hour,” he returned. “Which is it to be, a spanking or the closet?”
“Come into my room a minute,” went on Mrs. Nixon.
“I do believe it’s the spanking. Say, mamma, forget it. The geyser’s just going to spout.”
“I must speak to you first.”
“’Tisn’t fair,” objected the youth, “because you do spout more than once an hour, you know.” But he followed his stately mother into her room, for she looked more imposing than usual, and his curiosity was roused.