“Wait a moment,” said Captain Mowbray, a little abruptly. “Who is this man, Miss Dalton, of whom you complain?”
“Wiggins.”
“Wiggins?” said Mowbray. “Ah! was he not the steward of your late father?”
“Yes.”
“I have heard somewhere that he was appointed your guardian. Is that so?”
“I don't know,” said Edith. “He claims to be my guardian; but I am of age, and I don't see how he can be.”
“The law of guardianship is very peculiar,” said Mowbray. “Perhaps he has right on his side.”
“Right!” cried Edith, warmly. “How can he have the right to restrict my liberty, and make me a prisoner on my own estate. I am of age. The estate is absolutely mine. He is only a servant. Have I no rights whatever?”
“I should say you had,” said Mowbray, languidly stroking his mustache. “I should say you had, of course. But this guardian business is a troublesome thing, and Wiggins, as your guardian, may have a certain amount of power.”
Edith turned away impatiently.