“Yes; I am not surprised.”
“There is the house we live in and the farm,—they are still free. He says they belong to me.”
“If he has not pledged them for debt in any way, they pass to your possession to-day. They are yours now.”
“Yes; I understand about that. This is my fateful birthday;” and she smiled.
He smoked in silence, wondering at her.
“But there are some things that are not quite right. Father has told me about them. There is something about an order of court, which affects a piece of property that he has sold through this Mr. Balcomb. Father takes all the blame for that. I suppose that is what you wished to tell me last night. But I’m glad I heard it from father. I hope you will not be hard on him. He has talked to me in an honorable spirit that, that—I respect very much.”
The sob was again seeking a place in her throat and her eyes filled, but she looked straight at her uncle till the old man grew uncomfortable, and stared at the bronze bust of Abraham Lincoln on the mantel and wished that all men were honest, and all women as fine as this girl.
“Uncle Rodney, I wish to protect father fully in every way from any injury that might come to him for what he has done. I understand perfectly that it was a large sum of money that he lost; but he is an old man and he was doing the best he could.”
The color climbed into Merriam’s face and he smoked furiously. The idea that Ezra Dameron had done the best he could, when he had sunk to the level of a common gambler, wakened the wrath against his brother-in-law that was always slumbering in his heart.
“Zee!” he exclaimed, suddenly appearing through his cloud of smoke,—“Zee, he isn’t worth it!”