“You can't mean that, Helen,” he said, drawing a long breath.
“But why not?” she persisted.
“You ought to know.”
“Who would have done any different? If you had a brother and discovered that he had—appropriated—most all the money of a concern of which you were president, wouldn't you think it your duty to have him arrested?”
“No!” cried Thorpe suddenly excited. “Never! If he was my brother, I'd help him, even if he'd committed murder!”
“We differ there,” replied the girl coldly. “I consider that Uncle Amos was a strong man who did his duty as he saw it, in spite of his feelings. That he had father arrested is nothing against him in my eyes. And his wanting us to come to him since, seems to me very generous. I am going to write to him.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” commanded Thorpe sternly. “Amos Thorpe is an unscrupulous man who became unscrupulously rich. He deliberately used our father as a tool, and then destroyed him. I consider that anyone of our family who would have anything to do with him is a traitor!”
The girl did not reply.
Next morning Thorpe felt uneasily repentant for his strong language. After all, the girl did lead a monotonous life, and he could not blame her for rebelling against it from time to time. Her remarks had been born of the rebellion; they had meant nothing in themselves. He could not doubt for a moment her loyalty to the family.
But he did not tell her so. That is not the way of men of his stamp. Rather he cast about to see what he could do.