decency--or pity--or--"
He choked, and the tears rushed to his eyes. He wiped them angrily away with the back of his glove.
"It's a crime!" he cried. "Can't he be held off somehow? Who _is_ he? I want to know his name."
Captain Elisha sadly shook his head. "I'm afraid he can't, Stevie," he said. "He's got a legal right to all 'Bije left, and more, too. It may be he won't be too hard; perhaps he'll ... but there," hastily. "I mustn't say that. We've got to face the situation as 'tis. And I can't tell you his name because he don't want it mentioned unless it's absolutely necessary. And we don't, either. We don't want--any of us--to have this get into the papers. We mustn't have any disgrace."
"Disgrace! Good heavens! Isn't there disgrace enough already? Isn't it enough to know father was a crook as well as an idiot? I've always thought he was insane ever since that crazy will of his came to light; but to steal! and then to leave a paper proving it, so that we've got to lose everything! His children! It's--"
"Now hold on, boy! Your dad didn't mean to take what didn't belong to him--for good, that is; the note proves that. He did do wrong and used another man's money, but--"
"Then why didn't he keep it? If you're going to steal, steal like a man, I say!"
"Steve, Steve! steady now!" The captain's tone was sterner. "Don't speak that way. You'll be sorry for it later. I tell you I don't condemn your father ha'f so much as I pity him."
"Oh, shut up! You make me sick. You talk just as Caro does. I'll never forgive him, no matter how much she preaches, and I told her so. Pity! Pity him! How about pity for _me_? I--I--"
His over-wrought nerves gave way, and, throwing himself into the chair, he broke down completely and, forgetting the manhood of which he was so fond of boasting, cried like a baby. Captain Elisha turned away, to hide his own emotion.
"It's hard," he said slowly. "It's awfully hard for you, my boy. I hate to see you suffer this way." Then, in a lower tone, he added doubtfully. "I wonder if--if--I wonder--"
His nephew heard the word and interrupted.
"You wonder?" he demanded, hysterically; "you wonder what? What are you going to do about it? It's up to you, isn't it? You're our guardian, aren't you?"
"Yes, Stevie, I'm your guardian."
"Yes, you are! But no one would guess it. When we didn't want you, you wouldn't leave us for a minute. Now, when we need you, when there isn't a soul for us to turn to, you stay away. You haven't been near us. It's up to you, I say! and what are you going to do about it? What are you going to _do_?"
His uncle held up his hand.
"S-shh!" he said. "Don't raise your voice like that, son! I can hear you without that, and we don't want anybody else to hear. What am I goin' to do? Stevie, I don't know exactly. I ain't made up my mind yet."
"Well, it's time you did!"
"Yes, I guess likely 'tis. As for my not comin' to see you, you know the reason for that. I'd have come quick enough, but I wa'n't sure I'd be welcome. And I told your sister only 'tother day that--by the way, Steve, how is she? How is Caroline?"
"She's a fool!" The boy sprang up again and shook his fist. "She's the one I've come here to speak about. If we don't stop her she'll ruin us altogether. She--she's a damned fool, I tell you!"
"There! there!" the captain's tone was sharp and emphatic. "That's enough of that," he said. "I don't want to hear you call your sister names. What do you mean by it?"
"I mean what I say. She _is_ a fool. Do you know what she's done? She's written Mal Dunn all about it! I'd have stopped her, but I didn't know until it was too late. She's told him the whole thing."
"She has? About 'Bije?"
"Well, perhaps she didn't tell him father was a thief, but she did tell that the estate was gone--that we were flat broke and worse."
"Hum!" Captain Elisha seemed more gratified than displeased. "Hum!... Well, I kind of expected she would. Knowin' her, I kind of expected it."
"You did?" Stephen glared in wrathful amazement. "You expected it?"
"Yes. What of it?"
"What _of_ it? Why, everything! Can't you see? Mal's our only chance. If she marries him she'll be looked out for and so will I. She needn't have told him until they were married. The wedding could have been hurried along; the Dunns were crazy to have it as soon as possible. Now--"
"Hold on, Steve! Belay! What difference does her tellin' him make? Maybe she hasn't mentioned it to you, but I had a talk with your sister the other mornin'. She thinks the world of Malcolm, and he does of her. She told me so herself. Of _course_ she'd go to him in her trouble. And he'll be proud--yes, and glad to know that he can help her. As for the weddin', I don't see that this'll have any effect except to hurry it up a little more, maybe."
Steve looked at him suspiciously, but there was no trace of sarcasm in the captain's face or voice. The boy scowled.
"Ugh!" he grunted.
"What's the 'ugh' for? See here, you ain't hintin' that young Dunn was cal'latin' to marry Caroline just for her money, are you? Of course you ain't! Why, you and he are the thickest sort of chums. You wouldn't chum with a feller who would play such a trick as that on your own sister."
Stephen's scowl deepened. He thrust his hands into his pocket, and shifted his feet uneasily.
"You don't understand," he said. "People don't do things here as they do where you come from."
"I understand that, all right," with dry emphasis. "I've been here long enough to understand that. But maybe I don't understand _you_. Heave ahead, and make it plain."
"Well--well, then--I mean this: I don't know that Mal was after Caro's money, but--but he had a right to expect _some_. If he didn't, why, then her not telling him until after they were married wouldn't have made any difference. And--and if her tellin' him beforehand _should_ make a difference and he wanted to break the engagement, she's just romantic fool enough to let him."
"Well?"
"_Well?_ If she doesn't marry him, who's going to take care of her? What's going to become of _me_? We haven't a cent. What kind of a guardian are you? Do you want us to starve?"
He was shouting again. The captain was calm. "Oh," he said, "I guess it won't reach to the starvation point. I'm a pretty tough old critter, 'cordin' to your estimate, but I shouldn't let my brother's children starve. If the wust comes to the wust, there's always a home and plenty to eat for you both at South Denboro."
This offer did not appear to comfort the young gentleman greatly. His disgust was evident.
"South Denboro!" he repeated, scornfully. "Gad!... South Denboro!"
"Yup. But we'll let South Denboro alone for now and stick to New York. What is it you expect me to do? What are you drivin' at?"
Stephen shook a forefinger in his guardian's face.
"I expect you to make her stick to her engagement," he cried. "And make her make him stick. She can, can't she? It's been announced, hasn't it? Everybody knows of it! She's got the right--the legal right to hold him, hasn't she?"
His uncle regarded him with a quizzical smile. "Why, ye-es," he answered, "I cal'late she has, maybe. Course, there's no danger of his wantin' to do such a thing, but if he should I presume likely we could make it uncomfortable for him, anyhow. What are you hankerin' for, Steve--a breach-of-promise suit? I've always understood those sort of cases were kind of unpleasant--for everybody but the newspapers."
The boy was in deadly earnest. "Pleasant!" he repeated. "Is any