I said she had not. Incidentally I informed him that American young women did NOT frequently suffer from nerves. He said “Really,” but he did not believe me, I'm certain. He was a good fellow, and intelligent, but his ideas of “the States” had been gathered, largely, I think, from newspapers and novels. He was convinced that most Americans were confirmed neurotics and dyspeptics, just as Hephzy had believed all Englishmen wore side-whiskers.
I changed the conversation as soon as I could. I could tell him so little concerning my newly found “niece.” I knew about as much concerning her life as he did. It is distinctly unpleasant to be uncle to someone you know nothing at all about. I devoutly wished I had not said she was my niece. I repeated that wish many times afterward.
Miss Morley's talk with the physician had definite results, surprising results. Following that talk she sent word by the doctor that she wished to see Hephzy and me. We went into her room. She was sitting in a chair by the window, and was wearing a rather pretty wrapper, or kimono, or whatever that sort of garment is called. At any rate, it was becoming. I was obliged to admit that the general opinion expressed by the Jamesons and Hephzy and the doctor—that she was pretty, was correct enough. She was pretty, but that did not help matters any.
She asked us—no, she commanded us to sit down. Her manner was decidedly business-like. She wasted no time in preliminaries, but came straight to the point, and that point was the one which I had dreaded. She asked us what decision we had reached concerning her.
“Have you decided what your offer is to be?” she asked.
I looked at Hephzy and she at me. Neither of us derived comfort from the exchange of looks. However, something must be done, or said, and I braced myself to say it.
“Miss Morley,” I began, “before I answer that question I should like to ask you one. What do you expect us to do?”
She regarded me coldly. “I expect,” she said, “that you and this—that you and Miss Cahoon will arrange to pay me the money which was my mother's and which my grandfather should have turned over to her while he lived.”
Again I looked at Hephzy and again I braced myself for the scene which I was certain would follow.
“It is your impression then,” I said, “that your mother had money of her own and that Captain Barnabas, your grandfather, kept that money for his own use.”