Larry nodded his assent to that and suddenly switched to another subject, asking his uncle what he knew about this Alan Massey with whom Tony was having such an extensive correspondence.
His uncle admitted that he didn't know much of anything about him, except that he was the inheritor of the rather famous Massey property and an artist of some repute.
"He has plenty of repute of other kinds," said Larry. "He is a thorough-going rotter, I infer. I made some inquiries from a chap who knows him. He has gone the pace and then some. It makes me sick to have Tony mixed up with a chap like that."
"You haven't said anything to her yourself?"
"No. Don't dare. It would only make it worse for me to tackle her. Neither she nor Ted will stand any interference from me. We are a cranky lot I am afraid. We all have what Dad used to call the family devil. So far as I know you are the only person on record that can manage him."
And Larry smiled rather shame-facedly at his uncle.
"I am afraid you will all three have to learn to manage your own particular familiar. Devils are rather personal property, Larry."
"Don't I know it? I got into mighty close range with mine last night, and just now for that matter. Anyway I am not prepared to do any preaching at anybody at present; but I would be awfully grateful to you if you will speak to Tony. Somebody has to. And you can do it a million times better than anyone else."
"Very well. I will see what I can do." And thus quietly Doctor Holiday accepted another burden on his broad shoulders.
The next day he found Tony on the porch reading one of the long letters which came to her so frequently in the now familiar, dashing script.