The dark eyes fairly blazed at the name.
"Yes?"
"I—I was a fool when I was home last spring," continued the young fellow, still with his face to the window. "I had never realized before that she had grown up or that she was prettier than anyone I knew, until you warned me about it—you remember?"
"I reckon I do," was the grim reply.
"Well, I tried to be sensible. I did try," he protested, though no contradiction was made. "And after I left I concluded I had better stay away until—well, until we were both a little older and more level-headed."
"It's a pity you didn't reach that idea before you left," said the other significantly.
"What!"
"And before you turned back for that picture you had forgotten."
"What do you mean" and for the first time a sort of terror shone in his face—a dread of the dark eyes that were watching him so cruelly. "Tell me what it is you mean, brother."
"You can just drop that word," was the cold remark. "I haven't any relatives to my knowledge. Your father told me this morning I was the only one of the name who was not a gentleman. I reckon I'll get along without either father or brother for the rest of my life. The thing I came here to see about is the homestead. It is yours and mine—or will be some day. What do you intend doing with your share?"