Reggie widely stared. "I don't think my going there, when I wish, and they ask me, can do any harm to any one," he protested.
"Sit down, will you?" his brother said, and pointed to the chair on the other side of the table by which he sat.
"I think not, now. I think I'll be off. The ice mayn't keep—"
The other still pointed to the chair. "What I want to say to you won't keep—emphatically. Sit down," he said, and down Reggie sat.
He was by no means embarrassed, or afraid. His brother had stood to him in place of a father since his own father had died when he was a boy at school, but he lectured him as little as possible, and very rarely thwarted him. "Get over it as quick as you can, Francis," was all he said.
"Did you meet Mr. Day going away as you came in?"
"Mr. Day? No."
"He has just left me. He came to tell me that you," he looked during a moment's pause in Reggie's wide eyes, "were engaged to be married to his daughter."
"Well! Come! That's a good 'un!" Reggie was surprised, his brother saw, but not so satisfactorily taken aback as he had hoped.
"Is it so?"