“Yes, sir!”
“As a gentleman?”
“As a ‘gentleman—unafraid!’”
Captain Briggs got up from the bench among the tombs and put his tired old arm through the strong, vigorous one of Hal, with a patriarchal affection of great nobility.
“Come, boy!” said he, happy with new hopes. “Come, we must be getting under way for Snug Haven—for the little home you’re going to be so worthy of and make so happy. The home where, some of these fine days, I know you’ll bring Laura to comfort and rejoice me. Come, boy, now let’s be going down the hill!”
Together he and Hal made their way toward the gate in the old stone wall, warm in the sunlight of June.
A smile was on the captain’s time-worn face, a smile of joy and peace. Hal was smiling, too, but with mockery and craft and scorn.
“That’s the time I handed it out right and stalled him proper!” he was thinking as they started down the winding path amid the sumacs and wild roses. “He’s easy, gramp is—a cinch! Getting moldy in the attic. He’ll fall for anything. Now, if Laura’d only been as easy! If she had—”
Heavily, but still smiling, the old man leaned upon Hal’s arm, finding comfort in the strength of the lusty young scion of the family which, save for this one hope, must perish.