“Oh, Uncle Doug!” Fanny exclaimed, reproachfully.
“Guy is a good, clean-hearted young fellow. You don’t want him to become cynical and hypocritical and deceitful, do you? You don’t want him to believe there’s no such thing as unselfishness in the world, that whenever a man turns his hand he expects to be paid for it ten times over?”
Fanny looked with astonishment at her uncle. “Well, what in the world is the matter with you?” she said, after a moment.
Briggs patted her hand. “There, there! I won’t preach any more. But I mean what I say.”
When Fanny spoke again there were tears in her voice. “Isn’t he a good secretary?”
“Oh, yes, good enough.”
“You’re mad because he’s staying in bed so late.”
“Nonsense! I told Michael myself not to call him. He’s worked himself to death during the past few weeks. I had to fight for my renomination, you know.”
“You did?” said Fanny, with a change of tone. “Why, I thought you were the most popular man in New York.”
“Well, the most popular men have enemies,” Briggs replied, grimly.