His chin lifted. “Then I am afraid you won’t see me very soon,” he declared.
“That is for you to say. If you don’t care enough, or trust me enough, to make a promise I ask you to make, especially when what I ask is entirely for your good, then—well then, perhaps you had better not come at all.”
“Esther, the other night you said—you told me— And now you want me to go off three thousand miles and leave you! Well, I must say!”
“Bob, will you make me that promise?”
“I—I— Oh, I don’t know! It doesn’t seem as if I could.”
“And if you do make it, will you keep it? You promised me weeks ago that you would tell your grandfather of your coming to this house to see me. Have you told him?”
He frowned. That promise had been on his mind every waking moment since it was made. Time and time again he had been on the point of telling Elisha Cook of his visits to the Townsend mansion, but always the time had seemed inopportune. He was no coward, but he knew, better than she or any one else knew, the storm which was sure to follow. It might mean a complete break between his grandfather and himself, and he loved the old man dearly. Yet he had meant to keep his promise, still meant to do so.
He shook his head.
“Well, no, Esther, I haven’t yet. We have had one tremendous row in the family lately, when I told him I was going abroad. I haven’t had the spunk to risk another. I shall tell him, though—and soon. Please don’t think—”
“Oh, hush! What need is there to think? I can see. Good-night.”