Somehow, in spite of his earnestness, the reason seemed inadequate and the necessity not so real as it had seemed when he was listening to Helen Baldwin’s sobs.
“Not treating her right?” demanded the Major. “Well, I’ll attend to that; I’ll see to that. I’ll fix it with the family and then, after you are old enough to marry and still love her—who is she?”
The Major broke off his promises suddenly and shot the question at Larry.
“Helen Baldwin,” replied Larry, in a low tone.
He was prepared for an outburst, but for nothing such as the one that broke. For an instant Major Lawrence stood glaring at him.
“Baldwin?” he screamed. “You want to marry a Baldwin? Marry one of the tribe that robbed me and robbed your father, broke your father’s health and killed him. YOU marry one of that breed of rats? Never!”
“But, Uncle Jim, she is not one of them. She is different. They are cruel to her and accuse her”——
“Don’t talk to me of a Baldwin,” raged Major Lawrence. “I’d rather see you in your grave. Never dare mention her name to me again.”
Larry, bridling with what he thought was injustice, stood his ground before the wrath of his guardian. He was about to speak when Winans, from the hallway, shouted:
“Hustle up, Larry. Time to start.”