However, he felt an amused curiosity to know what his sister’s attitude had been toward her impetuous visitor, so he called Julie up on the telephone.
“What do you think about that wild creature that broke in on us to-day?” he asked.
“Irene?” said Julie’s calm voice. “Oh, she’s just a goose, but she’s really quite nice and sweet and young at heart.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought,” he assented. “Occurred to me, though, that I’d better call you up and let you know that she hadn’t eloped with me or done me any real harm—though she nearly ran us into a street-car. Quite a good time.”
“Now, Stacey, listen!” said Julie anxiously. “You won’t go and fall in love with Irene, will you?”
He laughed. “I won’t do anything without asking you about it first, Jule. I lean on you, you know.”
And the odd thing about it was that in a way he did.
CHAPTER IX
One morning some three weeks later Stacey received a night letter from Omaha. It was addressed “Honorable Stacey Carroll” and read:
“My husband Jim is awfully sick with flu and I am afraid he is going to die. He keeps asking for you though he is out of his head and does not know what he says. Please, Captain Carroll, come if you can because then he might get well. Gertrude Burnham.”