He lingered for an instant. This was not the sort of “good-night” he had counted upon when he came. But it was a part of the bargain. He had sworn to be “game.”
“Good-night, Esther,” he said, and walked down the path.
CHAPTER XII
WHEN Esther entered the dining room next morning she found her uncle already seated at the breakfast table reading a letter. The remainder of the mail brought up from the post office by Varunas lay beside his plate unopened. The letter seemed to be interesting, for although he looked up to bid her good-morning, he returned to the reading immediately. When he reached the foot of the last page he muttered an exclamation; shook his head, and, turning back to the beginning, read the letter through once more.
“What is it, Uncle Foster?” she asked, after a moment. “Anything important?”
He nodded, absently. “Eh?” he queried. “Important?... Why, yes, I guess so—maybe.”
“It isn’t bad news? Nothing has gone wrong with the lawsuit?”
“Eh? No, no. Nothing to do with that. It is.... Humph! I’ll tell you about it while we eat. How are you feeling this morning? All shipshape and ready for the day’s run, eh?”
“Yes. I am feeling very well, thank you.”
Something in her tone caused him to glance up quickly. He gave her an appraising look.