She had risen to her feet. He looked at her determined face and turned away.

"Oh, well," he muttered, sullenly, "maybe you're right. I don't say you're not. Perhaps he didn't get the letter. You sent it to his office, and he may have been called out of town. But his mother--"

"Mrs. Dunn was not well when I last saw her. She may be ill."

"Perhaps. But if you're so sure about them, why not let it go at that?

What's the use of fretting?"

"I was not thinking of them--then."

As a matter of fact, she had been thinking of her uncle, Elisha Warren.

As the time dragged by, she thought of him more and more--not as the uncouth countryman whose unwelcome presence had been forced into her life; nor as the hypocrite whose insult to her father's memory she never could forgive or whose double-dealing had been, as she thought, revealed; but as the man who, with the choke in his voice and the tears in his eyes, bade her remember that, whenever she needed help, he was ready and glad to give it.

She did not doubt Malcolm's loyalty. Her brother's hints and insinuations found no echo in her thoughts. In the note which she had written her fiance she told of the loss of their fortune, though not of her father's shame. That she could not tell; nor did she ask Malcolm to come to her--her pride would not permit that. She wrote simply of her great trouble and trusted the rest to him. That he had not come was due--so she kept repeating to herself--solely to the fact that he had not received her letter. She knew that was it--she knew it. And yet--and yet he did not come.

So, in her loneliness and misery, her guardian's words returned again and again to her memory: "Sometimes when things look all right they turn out to be all wrong. If ever there comes a time like that to you and Steve, remember you've got me to turn to." The time had come when she must turn to someone.

She would never go to him; she vowed it. She would not accept his help if he came to her. But, if he was sincere, if he meant what he said, why did he not come again to proffer it? Because he was not sincere, of course. That had been proven long before. She despised him. But his face, as she last saw it, refused to be banished from her mind.

It looked so strong, and yet gentle and loving, like the face of a protector, one to be trusted through good times and bad. Oh, this wicked, wicked world, and the shams and sorrows in it! "Malcolm, why don't you come to me?"

Stephen uttered an exclamation. Looking up, she saw him hurrying toward the hall.

"Someone's at the door," he explained. "It's Sylvester, of course. I'll let him in."

It was not the lawyer but a messenger boy with a note. Stephen returned to the library with the missive in his hand.

"He couldn't get here, Caro," he said, excitedly. "Wants us to come right down to his office. Hurry up! Get your things on. The cab's waiting. Come! Rush! It may be important."

The cab, an electric vehicle, made good time, and they soon reached the Pine Street offices, where they were ushered at once into the senior partner's presence.

"Step into the other room," said Mr. Sylvester, "and wait there, please.

I'll join you shortly."

The room was the large one where the momentous conference between Captain Elisha and the three lawyers had so recently taken place.

Caroline seated herself in one of the chairs. Stephen walked the floor.

"Hope he doesn't keep us waiting long," he fumed. "I thought of course he was ready or he wouldn't have sent for us."

"Ready?" his sister looked at him, questioningly. "Ready for what?" she repeated, with sudden suspicion. "Steve, do you know what Mr. Sylvester wishes to see us about?"

Her brother colored and seemed a bit disconcerted. "How should I know?"

he muttered.

"Is it something new about the estate or that man who owns it? You do know something! I can see it in your face. What is it?"

"Nothing. How should I know what it is?"

"But you do. I believe you do. Look at me! What does Mr. Sylvester want of us?"

The boy hesitated; then whirled and faced her. "See here, Caro," he said, "maybe I do know something--or I can guess. Now, whatever happens, you've got to be a sensible girl. Certain things have to be dealt with in a practical way, and we're practical people. Sentiment--and pride--and all that sort of stuff, are well enough, but business is business and an engagement is an engagement. Now it's right up to you and--"

"Steve, what are you talking about?"

"That's all right. I know what I'm talking about. Somebody in the family must use common sense, and when it comes to holding a person to a promise, then--Confound it, Sis, we can't starve, can we?"

"What do you mean?" She rose and advanced toward him. "What do you mean by a promise? What have you been doing?"

His confusion increased. He avoided her eyes and moved sullenly toward the other side of the table.

"I haven't done anything," he grumbled, "that is, I've done what any reasonable fellow would do. I'm not the only one who thinks.... Look here! We've got a guardian, haven't we?"

"A guardian! a _guardian_! Stephen Warren, have you been to him? Have you--Was _that_ where you were last night?"

"Well, I--"

"Answer me!"

"What if I have? Whom else am I to go to? Isn't he--"

"But why did you go to him? What did you say?"

"I said--I said--Never mind what I said. He agrees with me, I can tell you that. You'll thank your stars I did go, before very long. I....

S-sh! Here's Sylvester."

The door of the room opened. The person who entered, however, was not the lawyer, but the very man of whom they had been speaking, Captain Elisha himself. He closed the door behind him.

"h.e.l.lo, Stevie," he said, with a nod to the boy. Then, turning to his niece, he stepped forward and held out his hand. "Caroline," he began, "I don't doubt you're some surprised to see me here; but I.... Why, what's the matter?"

The faces of the pair led him to ask the question. Stephen's was red and he looked embarra.s.sed and guilty. Caroline's was white, and she glanced from her brother to her guardian and back again, with flashing eyes.

"What's the matter?" repeated the captain. "Steve," sharply, "have you been making a fool of yourself again? What is it?"

"Nothing," was the sulky answer; "nothing of consequence. Caro is--well, I happened to mention that I called on you last night and--and she doesn't seem to like it, that's all. As I told her, somebody in the family had to use common sense, and you were our guardian and naturally, under the circ.u.mstances.... Why, I'll leave it to anyone!" with a burst of righteous indignation. "You _are_ our guardian."

He proclaimed it as if he expected a denial. Captain Elisha frowned.

"Humph!" he grunted. "That ain't exactly news, is it, Steve? Seems to me we've taken up that p'int afore; though, as I remember, you didn't used to be sot on all hands knowin' it," with dry sarcasm. "I don't need even your common sense to remind me of it just at this minute. Caroline, your brother did come to see me last night. I was glad he did."

She ignored him. "Steve," she demanded, still facing the young man, "was this, too, a part of your plan? Did you bring me here to meet--him?"

"No, I didn't. Sylvester was to come to see us. You know that; he telephoned. I didn't know--"

The captain interrupted. "There, there, son!" he exclaimed, "let me say a word. No, Caroline, Stevie didn't know I was to meet you here. But I thought it was necessary that I should. Set down, please. I know you must be worn out, poor girl."

"I don't wish to sit. I want to know what my brother called to see you about."

"Well, there was some matters he wanted to talk over."

"What were they? Concerning the estate?"