“Good night, Rachel. . . . And thank you for taking so much interest in my affairs. You're an awfully good friend, I can see that.”
“Don't—don't talk that way. And you WILL have that talk with your grandpa?”
“Yes, I will.”
“Oh, I'm SO glad! There! Good night. I come pretty nigh kissin' you then and for a woman that's been engaged to be married for upwards of eighteen years that's a nice way to act, ain't it! Good night, good night.”
She hurried out of the room. Albert sat down again in his chair by the window. He had promised to go to his grandfather and talk to him. As he sat there, thinking of the coming interview, he realized more and more that the keeping of that promise was likely to be no easy matter. He must begin the talk, he must break the ice—and how should he break it? Timid and roundabout approaches would be of little use; unless his grandfather's state of mind had changed remarkably since their parting in the Z. Snow and Co. office they and their motive would be misunderstood. No, the only way to break the ice was to break it, to plunge immediately into the deepest part of the subject. It promised to be a chilly plunge. He shivered at the prospect.
A half hour later he heard the door of the hall open and shut and knew that Captain Zelotes had returned. Rising, he descended the stairs. He descended slowly. Just as he reached the foot of the narrow flight Captain Zelotes entered the hall from the dining-room and turned toward him. Both were surprised at the meeting. Albert spoke first.
“Good evening, Grandfather,” he stammered. “I—I was just coming down to see you. Were you going to bed?”
Captain Lote shook his head. “No-o,” he said, slowly, “not exactly.”
“Do you mind waiting a minute? I have a few things—I have something to say to you and—and I guess I shall sleep better if I say it to-night. I—I won't keep you long.”
The captain regarded him intently for an instant, then he turned and led the way to the dining-room.