Stephen shook a forefinger in his guardian’s face.
“I expect you to make her stick to her engagement,” he cried. “And make her make him stick. She can, can’t she? It’s been announced, hasn’t it? Everybody knows of it! She’s got the right—the legal right to hold him, hasn’t she?”
His uncle regarded him with a quizzical smile. “Why, ye-es,” he answered, “I cal’late she has, maybe. Course, there’s no danger of his wantin’ to do such a thing, but if he should I presume likely we could make it uncomfortable for him, anyhow. What are you hankerin’ for, Steve—a breach-of-promise suit? I’ve always understood those sort of cases were kind of unpleasant—for everybody but the newspapers.”
The boy was in deadly earnest. “Pleasant!” he repeated. “Is any of this business pleasant? You make her act like a sensible girl! You’re her guardian, and you make her! And, after that, if he tries to hedge, you tell him a few things. You can hold him! Do it! Do it!”
Captain Elisha turned on his heel and began pacing up and down the room. His nephew watched him eagerly.
“Well,” he demanded, after a moment, “what are we going to do? Are we going to make him make good?”
The captain paused. “Steve,” he answered, deliberately, “I ain’t sure as we are. And, as I’ve said, if he’s got a spark of decency, it won’t be necessary for us to try. If it should be—if it should be—”
“Well, if it should be?”
“Then we can try, that’s all. Maybe you run a course a little different from me, Stevie; you navigate ’cordin’ to your ideas, and I do by mine. But in some ways we ain’t so fur apart. Son,” with a grim nod, “you rest easy on one thing—the Corcoran Dunn fleet is goin’ to show its colors.”