Carice quickly stole out to her uncle. His face looked very gloomy, as he led her back toward the cottage.
"Carice," said he, suddenly, "have you seen your Western cousin?"
"Bergan Arling? Yes, certainly," she answered.
"How do you like him?"
"He seems very pleasant," she replied, evasively.
"Seems!" repeated her uncle, gruffly. "What is the matter with him?"
"I do not know, uncle. It is said that he is very dissipated."
The Major laughed ironically. "Nonsense! The most incorrigible milksop that ever I saw," said he. "That is why we quarrelled."
Carice looked at him doubtfully. "The very first thing that we heard of him," said she, "was that he had been mixed up in a low brawl at Gregg's tavern."
"All my fault, Carice," returned Major Bergan, shortly. "I took him there, and cheated him into swallowing a glass of raw brandy."