“Oh, well, I’m sick of hearing about it,” said Hugh restlessly, “and if she knew who I am I could stand all this pampering better; but it’s degrading to be waited on, and stuffed, and having to accept presents when—when I’m deceiving her; and I warn you”—he began speaking faster—“I’m not going to stand it, and I just waited to see you. Miss Damon, the nurse, is a good scout, but I hate the sight of her. I want to be let alone. My arm is all right”—he moved it about—“a little weak, but here’s my right all the time.”
“But you went off your head, my dear boy, and shouted for Aunt Sukey till you brought tears from a bronze image.” Ogden didn’t dare to laugh. “It rests with me to bring her here right now.”
“Yes, and you think that’s very funny, I suppose.”
“I think that such a début as you made in the rôle I planned for you was little short of miraculous; and to give it up and leave it would be flying in the face of Providence.”
“I don’t care whose face I fly in. I’m strong enough to move out of here, and I’m going.”
Ogden regarded him thoughtfully from the thatch of auburn waves down to his jeweled satin feet.
“If a film-producer should come in here now, you would never be allowed to learn the department-store business,” he said. “I’ll wager that Miss Frink is having a romance—rather late in life, I admit, but it goes all the deeper.”
Hugh shook his head gravely. “Don’t make any fun of her. Whatever she did to my father, she has been wonderful to me. I’ll be ashamed to face her when the truth comes out.”
“By that time you won’t, boy. Grimshaw is so jealous of you that it shows your work is well begun.”