“I was. It was I. Please remember that. I exacted from him at the time a promise that he would not reveal their relationship to Miss Frink until I gave him permission; so, chafe as he might and did, he kept that promise. He’s a fine youngster; and to my relief and pleasure his aunt realizes it, and they understand each other.”
Colonel Duane nodded and smiled. “A story that ends well. Eh, Milly?”
She assented with another of the fleeting smiles. This change in Hugh’s fortunes put him still farther away. No one could tell to what lengths Miss Frink’s pride and joy would go, and what advantages now awaited him.
“What did you say Hugh’s name is?” asked the Colonel.
“Sinclair. Hugh Stanwood Sinclair, and one of the finest,” returned Ogden. “I hope I have set him right in your eyes and that you will defend him as occasion arises.”
“We’re fond of Hugh,” returned the old gentleman quietly, “and I don’t think you need dread unkind comments on him. You know the way of the world, and Miss Frink’s handsome heir is going to be persona grata to everybody, except, perhaps”—Colonel Duane laughed—“Leonard Grimshaw.”
Ogden smiled. “The nephew was introduced to him this morning at breakfast; and, except for a look which endangered the sweetness of the cream, he took it very calmly.”
After the caller had departed, Colonel Duane came back to his chair.
“Well, well,” he said. “So the hero wasn’t called Prince Charming for nothing, was he? A story that ends well. Eh, Milly? He’ll grace the position, eh? I like the idea. Indeed, I do. Isn’t it fine?”
And Millicent said it was, and gathered up her paraphernalia and went into the house.