“‘I know you’ll do your best for me,’ Hildegarde said, anxiously”
When she got back to her hotel she telephoned to Cheviot.
The next day that young gentleman had an interview with Hildegarde’s brothers down at the ranch. They were even boisterously of Cheviot’s opinion. They would simply refuse their consent to their sister’s undertaking such a journey. But to Cheviot’s anxious sense they spoke too airily. Too certain they could prevent the abomination.
“Don’t antagonize her, you know,” warned Cheviot. “Make her see the reasonableness of our—of your objection.” And the boys agreed.
Even before Cheviot had made money in the Klondike, and come home to be made a partner in the bank; the Mar boys had looked upon him, not only as a probable, but as a highly desirable brother-in-law.
They soothed his natural indignation at Hildegarde’s foolishness, and they told him they’d meet him at the bank after giving her a talking to.
They were late for the appointment, and the moment they appeared in the room behind the public offices, Cheviot saw they had not prospered.
“Hildegarde’s the most pig-headed creature in the universe!”—and a few more illuminating details.