“What’s the matter?” repeated the captain. “Steve,” sharply, “have you been making a fool of yourself again? What is it?”
“Nothing,” was the sulky answer; “nothing of consequence. Caro is—well, I happened to mention that I called on you last night and—and she doesn’t seem to like it, that’s all. As I told her, somebody in the family had to use common sense, and you were our guardian and naturally, under the circumstances.... Why, I’ll leave it to anyone!” with a burst of righteous indignation. “You are our guardian.”
He proclaimed it as if he expected a denial. Captain Elisha frowned. “Humph!” he grunted. “That ain’t exactly news, is it, Steve? Seems to me we’ve taken up that p’int afore; though, as I remember, you didn’t used to be sot on all hands knowin’ it,” with dry sarcasm. “I don’t need even your common sense to remind me of it just at this minute. Caroline, your brother did come to see me last night. I was glad he did.”
She ignored him. “Steve,” she demanded, still facing the young man, “was this, too, a part of your plan? Did you bring me here to meet—him?”
“No, I didn’t. Sylvester was to come to see us. You know that; he telephoned. I didn’t know—”
The captain interrupted. “There, there, son!” he exclaimed, “let me say a word. No, Caroline, Stevie didn’t know I was to meet you here. But I thought it was necessary that I should. Set down, please. I know you must be worn out, poor girl.”
“I don’t wish to sit. I want to know what my brother called to see you about.”
“Well, there was some matters he wanted to talk over.”
“What were they? Concerning the estate?”
“Partly that.”