He was anxious to get Kathleen away from Boston, where Ralph Chainey was playing every night to crowded houses. It would seem as if Uncle Ben had as vigorous a dislike for actors as his dead brother had cherished.
So he carefully smoothed away all her objections, declaring that he had money enough to take them both to Richmond, and that she could repay him, if she insisted on it, when she got back her diamonds.
"I wonder if papa thought, when he gave them to me, that some day they would be my sole little fortune!" sighed the young girl.
Uncle Ben did not answer. He was looking out of the window at the country scenery, for they were on their journey now. Kathleen was sitting opposite to him in the parlor car, with a big bouquet of roses in her lap, the gift of the adoring Teddy, from whom she had just parted at the station.
"A noble young fellow," Uncle Ben had said, and his niece answered, with a little sigh:
"He has been very good to me; but, Uncle Ben, he is called the greatest flirt in Boston, and I shouldn't wonder if he threw me over at any time for a newer fancy."
"You are just wishing he would!" the old man exclaimed, curtly, and she replied only by a roguish laugh.
The train rushed on and on through the wintry landscape, and both of them grew very thoughtful. At last Kathleen touched her uncle's arm with a timid hand.
"Uncle Ben, this going home to my mother's people makes me think so much about her to-day. Tell me, did you ever see mamma?"
The man's strong arm trembled under the pressure of her little white hand, and he answered in a voice that was hoarse with emotion: