The captain opened his eyes. "Hey?" he exclaimed. "Not important? You surprise me, ma'am. I judged 'twas mighty important. 'Twas about the real size of your father's estate, Caroline," turning to the girl. "I thought Mrs. Dunn and Mr. Malcolm must think 'twas important, for I understand they've been telephonin' and askin' for appointments for the last two days. Why, yes! and they come way down here in all this storm on purpose to talk it over with him. Am I wrong? Ain't that so, ma'am?"

It was so, and Mrs. Dunn could not well deny it. Therefore, she took refuge in a contemptuous silence. The captain nodded.

"As to discussin' it here," he went on with bland innocence, "why, we're all family folks, same as I said, and there ain't any secrets between us on _that_ subject. So suppose we all listen while Mr. Sylvester tells just what he'd have told you and Mr. Malcolm. It's pretty hard to hear; but bad news is soon told. Heave ahead, Mr. Sylvester."

Mrs. Dunn made one more attempt to avoid the crisis she saw was approaching.

"Surely, Caroline," she said testily, "you don't wish your private affairs treated in this public manner. Come, let us go."

She laid a hand on the girl's arm. Captain Elisha quietly interposed.

"No, no," he said. "We'll all stay here. There's nothin' public about it."

Caroline, crimson with mortification, protested indignantly.

"Mr. Sylvester," she said, "it is not necessary to--"

"Excuse me;" her uncle's tone was sharper and more stern; "I think it is. Go on, Sylvester."

The lawyer looked far from comfortable, but he spoke at once and to the point.

"I should have told you and your son just this, Mrs. Dunn," he said.

"I intimated it before, and Miss Warren had already written you the essential facts. A new and unexpected development, the nature of which I am not at liberty to disclose now or later, makes Abijah Warren's estate absolutely bankrupt. Not only that, but many thousand dollars in debt.

His heirs are left penniless. That is the plain truth, I'm very sorry to say. There is no hope of anything better. You'll forgive me, Miss Warren, I hope, for putting it so bluntly; but I thought it best to avoid every possible misunderstanding."

It was blunt, beyond doubt. Even Captain Elisha winced at the word "penniless." Stephen muttered under his breath and turned his back.

Caroline, swaying, put a hand on the table to steady herself. The Dunns looked at each other.

"Thank you, Mr. Sylvester," said the captain, quietly. "I'll see you again in a few moments."

The lawyer bowed and left the room, evidently glad to escape. Captain Elisha turned to Mrs. Dunn.

"And now, ma'am," he observed, "that part of the business is over. The next part's even more in the family, so I thought we didn't need legal advice. You see just how matters stand. My niece is a poor girl. She needs somebody to support her and look out for her. She's got that somebody, we're all thankful to say. She's engaged to Mr. Malcolm here.

And, as you're his ma, Mrs. Dunn, and I'm Caroline's guardian, us old folks'll take our affairs in hand; they needn't listen, if they don't want to. I understand from Steve that Malcolm's been mighty anxious to have the weddin' day hurried along. I can't say as I blame him. And _I_ think the sooner they're married the better. Now, how soon can we make it, Mrs. Dunn?"

This unexpected and matter-of-fact query was variously received. Mrs.

Dunn frowned and flushed. Malcolm frowned, also. Steve nodded emphatic approval. As for Caroline, she gazed at her guardian in horrified amazement.

"Why!" she cried. "You--you--What do you mean by such--"

"Don't be an idiot, Caro!" cut in her brother. "I told you to be sensible. Captain Warren's dead right."

"Stevie, you stay out of this." There was no misunderstanding the captain's tone. "When I want your opinion I'll ask for it. And, Caroline, I want you to stay out, too. This is my trick at the wheel.

Mrs. Dunn, what d'you say? Never mind the young folks. You and me know that marriage is business, same as everything else. How soon can we have the weddin'?"

Mrs. Dunn had, apparently, nothing to say--to him. She addressed her next remark to Caroline.

"My dear," she said, in great agitation, "this is really too dreadful.

This--er--guardian of yours appears to think he is in some barbarous country--ordering the savages about. Come! Malcolm, take her away."

"No," Captain Elisha stepped in front of the door. "She ain't goin'; and I'd rather you wouldn't go yet. Let's settle this up now. I ain't askin'

anything unreasonable. Caroline's under my charge, and I've got to plan for her. Your boy's just crazy to marry her; he's been beggin' for her to name the day. Let's name it. It needn't be to-morrow. I cal'late you'll want to get out invitations and such. It needn't be next week.

But just say about when it can be; then I'll know how to plan. That ain't much to ask, sartin."

Much or little, neither Mrs. Dunn nor her son appeared ready to answer.

Malcolm fidgeted with his hat and gloves; his mother fanned herself with her handkerchief. Caroline, frantic with humiliation and shame, would have protested again, but her guardian's stern shake of the head silenced her.

"Well, Mr. Dunn," turning to the groom-to-be; "you're one of the interested parties--what do you say?"

Malcolm ground his heel into the rug. "I don't consider it your business," he declared. "You're b.u.t.ting in where--"

"No, no, I ain't. It's my business, and business is just _what_ it is.

Your ma knows that. She and I had a real confidential up and down talk on love and marriage, and she's the one that proved to me that marryin'

in high society, like yours and the kind Caroline's been circulatin' in, was business and mighty little else. There's a business contract between you and my niece. We want to know how soon it can be carried out, that's all."

The young man looked desperately at the door; but the captain's broad shoulders blocked the way towards it. He hesitated, scowled, and then, with a shrug of his shoulders, surrendered.

"How can I marry?" he demanded sullenly. "Confound it! my salary isn't large enough to pay my own way, decently."

"Malcolm!" cried his mother, warningly.

"Well, Mater, what the devil's the use of all this? You know.... By Jove! you _ought_ to!"

"Hold on, young feller! I don't understand. Your wages ain't large enough, you say? What do you mean? You was _goin'_ to be married, wasn't you?"

Mrs. Dunn plunged to the rescue, a forlorn hope, but desperate, and fighting to the end.

"An outrage!" she blurted. "Malcolm, I forbid you to continue this disgusting conversation. Caroline, my poor child, I don't blame you for this, but I call on you to stop it at once. My dear, I--"

She advanced toward the girl with outstretched arms. Caroline recoiled.

"Don't! don't!" she gasped. Captain Elisha spoke up sharp and stern.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, "but I'll be obliged if you'll wait a minute. Caroline, don't you say a word. You say--you--" addressing Malcolm, "that you can't support a wife on your wages. You surprise me some, considerin' the swath you've been cuttin' on 'em--but never mind that. Maybe they won't keep automobiles and--er--other things I've heard you was interested in, but if you cut them out and economize a little, same as young married folks I've known have been glad to do, you could sc.r.a.pe along, couldn't you? Hey? Couldn't you?"

Malcolm's answer was another scornful shrug. "You belong on Cape Cod,"

he sneered. "Mater, let's get out of this."

"Wait! Put it plain now. Do I understand that you cal'late to break the engagement because my niece has lost her money? Is that it?"

Mrs. Dunn realized that the inevitable was upon them. After all, it might as well be faced now as later.

"This is ridiculous," she proclaimed. "Every sane person knows--though _barbarians_ may not--" with a venomous glare at the captain--"that, in engagements of the kind in which my son shared, a certain amount of--er--financial--er--that is, the bride is supposed to have some money. It is expected. Of course it is! Love in a cottage is--well--a bit _pa.s.se_. My son and I pity your niece from the bottom of our hearts, but--there! under the circ.u.mstances the whole affair becomes impossible.

Caroline, my dear, I'm dreadfully sorry, dreadfully! I love you like my own child. And poor Malcolm will be heartbroken--but--you _see_."

She extended her hand in a gesture of utter helplessness. Stephen, who had been fuming and repressing his rage with difficulty during the scene, leaped forward with brandished fist.

"By gad!" he shouted. "Mal Dunn, you cad--"