It was late in the afternoon, and she had been out since ten o’clock shopping with Mrs. Dunn, lunching downtown with the latter and Malcolm, and motoring for an hour or two. The weather for the season was mild and sunny, and the crisp air had brightened her cheeks, her eyes sparkled, her fur coat and cap were very becoming, and Captain Elisha inspected her admiringly before making another remark.
“My! My!” he exclaimed, after an instant’s pause. “Twenty years old! Think of it! ’Bije’s girl’s a young woman now, ain’t she? I cal’late he was proud of you, too. He ought to have been. I presume likely he didn’t forget your birthday.”
He rose to help her with the heavy coat. As he lifted it from her shoulders, he bent forward and caught a glimpse of her face.
“There! there!” he said, hastily. “Don’t feel bad, dearie. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelin’s. Excuse me; I was thinkin’ out loud, sort of.”
She did not answer at once, but turned away to remove her cap. Then she answered, without looking at him.
“He never forgot them,” she said.
“Course he didn’t. Well, you see I didn’t forget, either.”
It was an unfortunate remark, inasmuch as it drew, in her mind, a comparison between her handsome, dignified father and his rude, uncultured brother. The contrast was ever present in her thoughts, and she did not need to be reminded of it. She made no reply.
“I was thinkin’,” continued the captain, conscious of having made a mistake, “that maybe we might celebrate somehow, in a quiet way.”
“No. I am not in the mood for—celebrations.”