“Oh, nothin’, nothin’. I joked with him a spell ago about a wealthy relation of the Moriarty tribe turnin’ up. ’Twas only a joke, of course. And yet, Caroline, I—I think I’d ought to say—”
He hesitated. What could he say? Even a hint might lead to embarrassing questions and he had promised Dunn.
“What ought you to say?” asked his niece.
“Why, nothin’, I guess. I’m glad you understand matters a little better and I don’t intend for the estate nor you to pay these Moriarty bills. Just get ’em off your mind. Forget ’em. I’ll see that everything’s attended to. And, later on, if you and me can, by puttin’ our heads together, help those folks to earnin’ a better livin’, why, we will, hey?”
The girl smiled up at him. “I think,” she said, “that you must be one who likes to hide his light under a bushel.”
“I guess likely a two-quart measure’d be plenty big enough to hide mine. There! there! We won’t have any more misunderstandin’s, will we? I’m a pretty green vegetable and about as out of place here as a lobster in a balloon, but, as I said to you and Steve once before, if you’ll just remember I am green and sort of rough, and maybe make allowances accordin’, this cruise of ours may not be so unpleasant. Now you run along and get ready for dinner, or the Commodore’ll petrify from standin’ so long behind your chair.”
She laughed, as she turned to go. “I should hate to have him do that,” she said. “He would make a depressing statue. I shall see you again in a few minutes, at dinner. Thank you—Uncle.”
She left Captain Elisha in a curious state of mind. Against his will he had been forced to accept thanks and credit which, he believed, did not rightfully belong to him. It was the only thing to do, and yet it seemed almost like disloyalty to Malcolm Dunn. This troubled him, but the trouble was, just then, a mere pinhead of blackness against the radiance of his spirit.
His brother’s daughter had, for the first time, called him uncle.