"Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your plans."
"Yes, but if you ain't goin' to do nothing, I am!"
His nephew wouldn't trust himself to hear another word. He turned on his
heel and left the old man.
Uncle Henry was shaking with excitement. He lifted his hand, smote the arm
of his chair, and cried out after the vanishing figure of his nephew, "You
make me sick, you gol darn fool!" He was almost in tears. "Gol darn the gol
darn luck, anyhow!"
At that moment, Lucia Pell came down the little stairway. She had discarded
her riding-habit, and now looked equally lovely in a simple frock of blue.
"What's the matter?" she inquired, seeing at once that something was
troubling Uncle Henry.
"What _ain't_ the matter?" the old fellow screamed, but glad of someone to
whom he could unburden his overflowing heart. "Gol darn it! By gollies! I
got it again!" he cried, seized with another inspiration. He eyed the
radiant Lucia, as a miser might appraise a new gold coin. "Mis' Pell," he
said, twirling his chair so that he caught a better glimpse of her.
"Yes?" she said, half-way down.
"You and Gil's old friends, ain't you?" The question was as direct as
anything could be.
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