“Yes,” said Eileen, “I have changed it. Do you and Aunt Caroline still want me, Uncle Jim?”
“You bet we want you!” roared the voice over the ’phone. “Here we are, with plenty of money and not a relation on earth but you to leave it to. You belong to us by rights. We’d be tickled to death to have you, and for you to have what’s left of the money when we get through with it. May I come after you? Say the word, and I’ll start this minute.”
“Oh, Uncle Jim, could you? Would you?” cried Eileen.
“Well, I’d say I could. We’d be tickled to death, I tell you!”
“How long would it take you to get here?” said Eileen.
“Well, I could reach you by noon to-morrow. Eleven something is the shortest time it’s been made in; that would give me thirteen—more than enough. Are you in that much of a hurry?”
“Yes,” gasped Eileen, “yes, I am in the biggest kind of a hurry there is, Uncle Jim. This troublesome little estate has to be settled to-morrow afternoon. There’s going to be complaint about everything that I have seen fit to do. I’ve been hounded and harassed till I am disgusted with it. Then I’ve promised to marry John Gilman as I wrote you, and I don’t believe you would think that was my best chance with the opportunities you could give me. It seems foolish to stay here, abused as I have been lately, and as I will be to-morrow. You have the house number. If you come and get me out of it by noon to-morrow, I’ll go with you. You may take out those adoption papers you have always entreated me to agree to and I’ll be a daughter that you can be proud of. It will be a relief to have some real money and some real position, and to breathe freely and be myself once more.”
“All right for you, girlie!” bellowed the great voice over the line. “Pick up any little personal bits you can put in a suitcase, and by twelve o’clock to-morrow I’ll whisk you right out of that damn mess.”
Eileen walked from the telephone booth with her head high, triumph written all over her face and figure. They were going to humiliate her. She would show them!
She went home immediately. Entering her room, she closed the door and stood looking at her possessions. How could she get her trunk from the garret? How could she get it to the station? Would it be possible for Uncle James to take it in his car? As she pondered these things Eileen had a dim memory of a day in her childhood when her mother had gone on business to San Francisco and had taken her along. She remembered a huge house, all turrets and towers and gables, all turns and twists and angles, closed to the light of day and glowing inside with shining artificial lights. She remembered stumbling over deep rugs. One vivid impression was of walls covered with huge canvases, some of them having frames more than a foot wide. She remembered knights in armor, and big fireplaces, and huge urns and vases. It seemed to her like the most wonderful bazaar she ever had been in. She remembered, too, that she had been glad when her mother had taken her out into the sunshine again and from the presence of two ponderous people who had objected strongly to everything her mother had discussed with them. She paused one instant, contemplating this picture. The look of triumph on her face toned down considerably. Then she comforted herself aloud.