“Had he no family of his own?”
“No; he was what we call an old bachelor,” Editha replied, with a little smile; “and he was the dearest old bachelor that ever lived. I used to think sometimes that he must have loved some one long ago, for there were times when he was very sad. But he never seemed to like the ladies very well; he would never go into company if he could help it, and, whenever I said anything to him about it, he used to tell me, in a laughing way, that he was waiting to be my escort, so as to frighten away all unworthy suitors.”
“He did not like the society of ladies, you say?”
“No; he was always coldly polite to them, but would never show them any attention.”
“He liked one well enough, it seems, to leave her all his fortune,” madam said, with an arch look into the beautiful face at her side.
“Yes; he gave me all he had, excepting the ten thousand that Earle was to have. I was always his ‘pet,’ his ‘ray of sunshine,’ his ‘happiness,’ but I would rather have my dear, kind uncle back than all the fortunes in the world,” she said sadly.
“He was your mother’s brother, you say, dear—what was his name?” asked madam, who had been very deeply interested in all she had heard.
“It is a name that he was always very proud of—Ri——”
“Editha!” suddenly called Mr. Dalton from behind them. “I have been chasing you around for the last half-hour. Do you know what time it is?”
“No, papa.”