“Her father, Captain Larrieau, of our schooner Moorea, asked me to be before he died this afternoon.”
“Hum-m-m!” Maisie was silent momentarily. “How like a man to think he can fill such an order without outside help.”
He was exasperated. “There you go, Maisie,” he complained, “jumping to a conclusion.”
“If I’ve jumped to a conclusion, Dan, rest assured I have landed squarely on my objective. Why didn’t you telephone me the instant you reached home with your ward? I would have been happy to aid you, Dan.”
“I am sure you would have been, Maisie, but—well——”
“I knew I was right, Dan. The only way I can find things out is to be rude and ask questions. You thought I might not approve of——”
“Of what?” he demanded triumphantly.
“Of the young woman you brought home with you, of course.” Maisie’s voice carried just a hint of irritation.
“Certainly not. I was certain you would approve of her. She’s quite a child—about seventeen or eighteen years old, I should say—and a perfectly dazzling creature—ah, that is, amazingly interesting in her directness, her frankness, her unconventionality and innocence. I do hope you’ll like her. I thought at first I could entrust her to Mrs. Pippy but——”
“I gathered as much, Dan. Now, start at the beginning and tell me everything about her.”