“Would you have me claim a stagedriver as a grandson?” retorted the Major, “because I may as well say now, ma'am, that there are some things I'll not stoop to. Why, I'd as lief have an uncle who was a chimney sweep.”
Mrs. Lightfoot turned uneasily in bed. “It means, I suppose, that I shall have to get up and go after him,” she remarked, “and you yourself heard the doctor tell me not to move out of bed for a week. It does seem to me, Mr. Lightfoot, that you might show some consideration for my state of health. Do ride in this afternoon, and tell Dan that I say he must behave himself properly.”
But the Major turned upon her the terrific countenance she had last seen on Jane's wedding day, and she fell silent from sheer inability to utter a protest befitting the occasion.
“If that stagedriver enters my house, I leave it, ma'am,” thundered the old gentleman, with a stamp of his gouty foot. “You may choose between us, if you like,—I have never interfered with your fancies—but, by God, if you bring him inside my doors I—I will horsewhip him, madam,” and he went limping out into the hall.
On the stair he met Betty, who looked at him with pleading eyes, but fled, affrighted, before the colour of his wrath; and in his library he found Champe reading his favourite volume of Mr. Addison.
“I hope you aren't scratching up my books, sir,” he observed, eying the pencil in his great-nephew's hand.
Champe looked at him with his cool glance, and rose leisurely to his feet. “Why, I'd as soon think of scrawling over Aunt Emmeline's window pane,” he returned pleasantly, and added, “I hope you had a successful trip, sir.”
“I got a lukewarm supper and a cold breakfast,” replied the Major irritably, “and I heard that the Marines had those Kansas raiders entrapped like rats in the arsenal, if that is what you mean.”
“No, I wasn't thinking of that,” replied Champe, as quietly as before. “I came home to find out about Dan, you know, and I hoped you went into town to look him up.”
“Well, I didn't, sir,” declared the Major, “and as for that scamp—I have as much knowledge of his whereabouts as I care for.—Do you know, sir,” he broke out fiercely, “that he has taken to driving a common stage?”