“That’s only Cousin Julian,” she said.
“Humph! ‘Only Cousin Julian,’ eh? Well, Cousin Julian’s a fine-looking beau, my dear, and Doctor Thompson told me only last week that he’s doing splendidly, learning to poison folks off real natural and saw off their legs and arms so’s it’s a genuine pleasure to them. I reckon that in about a year or so Cousin Julian will be thinking of getting married. Eh? What say?”
“He may for all of me,” laughed Holly. But her cheeks wore a little deeper tint, and the Major chuckled. Then he became suddenly grave.
“Is your Aunt at home?” he asked, in a low voice.
“She’s up-stairs,” answered Holly. “I’ll tell her you’re here, sir.”
“Just a moment,” said the Major, hurriedly. “I—oh, Lord!” He rubbed his chin slowly, and looked at Holly in comical despair. “Holly, pity the sorrows of a poor old man.”
“What have you been doing, Uncle Major?” asked Holly, sternly.
“Nothing, ’pon my word, my dear! That is—well, almost nothing. I thought it was all for the best, but now——” He stopped and shook his head. Then he threw back his shoulders, surrendered his hat and stick to the girl, and marched resolutely into the parlor. There he turned, pointed upward and nodded his head silently. Holly, smiling but perplexed, ran up-stairs.
Left alone in the big, square, white-walled room, dim and still, the Major unbuttoned his long frock coat and threw the lapels aside with a gesture of bravado. But in another instant he was listening anxiously to the confused murmur of voices from the floor above and plucking nervously at the knees of his trousers. Presently a long-drawn sigh floated onto the silence, and—
“Godamighty!” whispered the Major; “I wish I’d never done it!”