“Dear Uncle Rodney!” she cried, and then sprang away, drawing him up by his hands.
“I’m going to be a lot nicer to you than I ever was before,” she declared. “And you will help me to be good!”
“There are two or three things that I want you to do for me, Zee. I ask you as a favor,—as a very great favor.”
“It’s going to be something hard,—but go on!”
“Let me be your banker. And don’t begin teaching or making yourself ridiculous in other ways. I have enough, and I want you to begin having the benefit of it now. And I should like you to keep the old house up there, for a while, at least. My father built it, and I was born there—and your mother—and you! I should hate to have it pass to a stranger, in my day. And another thing. You’ve done a beautiful but not a very sensible thing in continuing your father in charge of your business—what’s left of it; but you’d better let me—consult with him about matters.”
“But you won’t—scold, or be disagreeable?”
He smiled at her words, which seemed ridiculous when applied to the squandering of a comfortable fortune, under circumstances that did not appeal to his pity.
“I’m not going to be hard on your father. My enemies have always escaped me. I suppose it’s because I’m so amiable.”
There was a pathos in his figure as he stood, quite free from his chair, his hands thrust into the side pockets of his coat, his shoulders a trifle drooped, and the half-smile upon his face marking still his inner reluctance.
“Zee,” he said, and he swayed a little, and put out his hand and rested his finger-tips on the table,—“Zee, you are the finest girl in the world. I wish you would tell your father that I shall be up to see him soon. And don’t worry about what I shall say to him. You can be there if you like.”