When the three reached the stile, Gilcrest, instead of inviting Abner in, gave him another cool nod, and with a wave of his hand indicated that Betty was to enter the house. Abner, however, detained him a moment to request an interview on the morrow, which Gilcrest hesitatingly granted, and in a way that boded ill for the lover's hopes.
At the appointed hour next morning, the young man, screwing up his courage to the sticking-place, knocked at the door of Oaklands. The servant ushered him at once into her master's private office. Gilcrest received his caller with extreme hauteur. Abner at once made known his business.
Gilcrest heard him through without question or comment. Then, after a pause, he said, "I have other plans for my daughter, Mr. Dudley."
"But—but—if—if—she herself—" stammered poor Abner, striving to find the right words for Betty as well as for himself.
"There are no 'buts' nor 'ifs' about it, sir," Gilcrest answered haughtily. "Betsy will do as I wish. She's at times rather self-willed, and no doubt has been led away for the moment by some romantic nonsense; but she's a sensible girl in the main, and knows what's best for her. If she doesn't, I do, and I'm master of my own household, I assure you."
"Has she other suitors?" Abner ventured.
"That, sir, if you will permit my saying so, is no affair of yours. She shall not marry any one against my will, you may be sure; and when she does marry, it will be a man whose social position and worldly prospects are such as to preclude all suspicion of his seeking her from any selfish motives."
"Sir," Abner broke forth hotly, "do you mean to insinuate that I have self-seeking motives in wishing to marry your daughter?"
"I mean to insinuate nothing, young man."
"But you do, sir; by God, you do insinuate that my love is founded upon self-interest, and that is something I can not permit."