Henry Carleton smiled at him benignantly in return. “You always were fond of old Robin, weren’t you, Jack?” he said. “Well, I hate myself to use a horse on a drive as long as that, and I hate to use Satterlee so late at night, besides. But these happen to be a set of plans, Jack, and you know to telephone plans is rather a difficult thing; and, since you’ve been so good as to interest yourself in the matter, I’ll tell you further that they’re street railway plans, of very great importance, considering the fact that Sheldon is my counsel before a committee of the legislature to-morrow morning. After all,” he added more slowly, “it is a practical world, Jack. Some one has to look after things, even if it involves an evening trip, a horse and a man. But I suppose it’s hard for you to get used to it. Yours never was the strictly practical side.”
The tone was of kindly benevolence. That there was a deliberate purpose behind the words was evident. Jack Carleton’s face gave no sign, save that all at once his eyes seemed suddenly to have turned hard and cold. “I see perfectly now,” he answered. “Pardon my suggestion, won’t you? I didn’t know the drive was connected with any plans, or of course I shouldn’t have spoken. Well, I guess I’ll go ahead and dress for dinner now.”
He turned with elaborate nonchalance, almost feeling Henry Carleton’s searching glance follow him; and once, half way up the drive, he chuckled to himself, as if in his mind he felt perfectly satisfied with the result of the little encounter of words.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am.”—Page [201]
As he mounted the piazza steps, from the cosy corner hidden far back among the ivy, Rose Carleton and Vaughan advanced a little consciously to meet him. Very possibly, from a certain tumbled look about her pretty curls and a flush in her cheeks suspiciously bright, he felt that he might have done well to enter the house from the side door. Yet, if he had proved an interrupter, she readily enough forgave him, coming forward with hands outstretched, and kissing him affectionately, first on one cheek and then on the other. “Well, cousin Jack,” she cried, “it’s seemed so long. Welcome home again; I can’t tell you how glad I am.”
He held her off at arm’s length, looking at her with real affection in his glance, yet quizzically. “My dear,” he said, “those are very nice kisses. You weren’t as skilful as that when I left. But practice, I suppose, will do a lot for any one.”
Rose Carleton’s face flushed, but not at all with anger. She held up an admonishing finger. “Why,” she cried, “I am surprised at you. Even to hint at such a thing,” and then suddenly shifting the attack, “and what’s made you such a judge of kisses, anyway? Were they experts out where you’ve been? I think you ought to explain, at least.”
Carleton laughed. “Never mind, never mind,” he said, “we’ll change the subject at once; I’m getting embarrassed; but seriously, my dear, I wish you two people all the luck in the world. Nothing could please me better; you can be sure of that. But I’m not going to stay here and say nice things about you; I’ll warrant you do enough of that yourselves to make you as proud as peacocks. And if I don’t get ready for dinner, Henry’ll give me a calling down; I know that much from old times,” and with a friendly wave of his hand by way of parting benediction, he took his departure for his room.