“Um-hm. That sounds like a joke, I know; but I don't mean it so, not now. What I mean is that I know South Harniss and South Harniss folks. I don't know New York—not so very well, though I've been there plenty of times—and I don't know New York ways. But I do know South Harniss ways, and they suit me. Would they suit your daughter—not just for summer, but as a reg'lar thing right straight along year in and out? I doubt it, Mr. Fosdick, I doubt it consid'able. Course I don't know your daughter—”
“I do—and I share your doubts.”
“Um-hm. But whether she liked it or not she'd have to come here if she married my grandson. Either that or he'd have to go to New York. And if he went to New York, how would he earn his livin'? Get a new bookkeepin' job and start all over again, or live on poetry?”
Mr. Fosdick opened his mouth as if to speak, seemed to change his mind and closed it again, without speaking. Captain Zelotes, looking keenly at him, seemed to guess his thoughts.
“Of course,” he said deliberately, but with a firmness which permitted no misunderstanding of his meaning, “of course you mustn't get it into your head for one minute that the boy is figgerin' on your daughter's bein' a rich girl. He hasn't given that a thought. You take my word for that, Mr. Fosdick. He doesn't know how much money she or you have got and he doesn't care. He doesn't care a continental darn.”
His visitor smiled slightly. “Nevertheless,” he began. The captain interrupted him.
“No, there ain't any nevertheless,” he said. “Albert has been with me enough years now so that I know a little about him. And I know that all he wants is your daughter. As to how much she's worth in money or how they're goin' to live after he's got her—I know that he hasn't given it one thought. I don't imagine she has, either. For one reason,” he added, with a smile, “he is too poor a business man to think of marriage as a business, bill-payin' contract, and for another,—for another—why, good Lord, Fosdick!” he exclaimed, leaning forward, “don't you know what this thing means to those two young folks? It means just moonshine and mush and lookin' into each other's eyes, that's about all. THEY haven't thought any practical thoughts about it. Why, think what their ages are! Think of yourself at that age! Can't you remember. . . . Humph! Well, I'm talkin' fifty revolutions to the second. I beg your pardon.”
“That's all right, Snow. And I believe you have the situation sized up as it is. Still—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Fosdick, but don't you think it's about time you had a look at the boy himself? I'm goin' to ask him to come in here and meet you.”
Fosdick looked troubled. “Think it is good policy?” he asked doubtfully. “I want to see him and speak with him, but I do hate a scene.”