“I don’t know about having influence with my uncle,” I said, and I could not keep all of the rasp out of my voice. Her welcome of me simply as an uncle-tamer had pricked me in a mighty tender place. “I don’t believe he is going to give me either three cheers or a hug and kiss when he sees me.”
“But you are an important man, now, and he must be proud of you and your success. He will look up to you now that you have money and position.”
Like a bang on the head the conviction struck me that I had cut out a fine bit of work for myself when I dropped back into my home town.
I had been all too well advertised by my loving friends.
Celene Kingsley had touched squarely on one truth: the only way to handle my uncle was to appear important even if I were not important. Mere bluff would go a little way—but not far. I must have money!
And here I was picked by her as her champion in the family feud!
If I had only stayed in the city! There was money to be come at there. Dollars in Levant were nailed down with spikes.
“We haven’t one happy hour in our home,” she wailed. “Your uncle is breaking my father’s heart, Mr. Sidney. I don’t understand what your uncle is doing; mother doesn’t understand it! Father has never told his business to us. But he sits in his office and figures and figures. Sometimes he stays there ’most all night. And it’s all on account of your uncle! I know that! For my father says your uncle is hounding him to death. You must find out what he is doing. I know you will find out and tell him he must stop.”
“I will look into the matter,” I said, as bravely as I could. “Of course there’s been hard feeling between my uncle and your father for a good many years.”
“But my father is sorry now for anything in the past. He says so to us, to mother and me. He sent mother to your uncle to ask him if he would not stop persecuting. Yes, she went to your uncle because father asked her to do so.”