"Love! Love is well enough, but it does not, of itself, pay for proper clothes, or a proper establishment, or seats at the opera, or any of the practical, necessary things of modern life. You can't keep up a presentable appearance on LOVE! If I had a daughter who lacked the brains to understand what I had taught her, that is, her duty as a member of good society, and talked of making a love match, I would . . . But there! You can't understand, Isuppose."
She rose and shook the wrinkles from her gown. Captain Elisha straightened in his chair. "Why, yes, ma'am," he drawled, quietly;"yes, ma'am, I guess I understand fust-rate."And suddenly Mrs. Dunn also understood. Her face, which had grown almost too red for one attached to a member of polite society, grew redder still. She turned away and walked to the window.
"What nonsense we've been talking!" she said, after a moment's silence. "I don't see what led us into this silly discussion.
Malcolm and your niece must be having a delightful ride. I almost wish I had gone with them."She did wish it, devoutly. Captain Elisha still remained by the fire.
"Automobiles are great things for hustlin' around in," he observed.
"Pity they're such dangerous playthings. Yet I s'pose they're one of the necessities of up-to-date folks, same as you said, Mrs.
Dunn."
"Surely," she asked coldly, "you don't condemn automobiles, Captain Warren? What would you--return to stage coaches?""Not a mite! But I was thinkin' of that poor Moriarty man.""His death was due to an accident. And accidents," she turned and looked directly at him, "when they involve financial damages, may be paid for."The captain nodded. "Yes," he said.
"And when arrangements for such payment is made, HONORABLE people--at least, in the circle of which you and I have been speaking--consider the matter settled and do not refer to it again, either among themselves--or elsewhere.""Yes, ma'am." He nodded again. She did know; Malcolm, evidently, had told her. "Yes, ma'am. That's the way any decent person would feel--and act--if such a thing happened--even if they hailed from South Denboro."He pushed back his chair and stood up. She continued to look him over, much as if she were taking a mental inventory of his character, or revising an old one.
"I hope," she said, lightly, but with deliberation, "our little argument and--er--slight disagreement concerning--er--duty will not make us enemies, Captain Warren.""Enemies! Land sakes, no! I respect anybody's havin' opinions and not bein' afraid to give 'em. And I think I can understand some of how you feel. Maybe if I was anchored here on Fifth Avenue, same as you are, instead of bein' blown in by an unexpected no'theaster, I'd be feelin' the same way. It's all accordin', as I've said so often. Enemies? No, indeed!"She laughed again. "I'm so glad!" she said. "Malcolm declares he'd be quite afraid of me--as an enemy. He seems to think Ipossess some mysterious and quite diabolical talent for making my un-friends uncomfortable, and declares he would compromise rather than fight me at any time. Of course it's ridiculous--just one of his jokes--and I'm really harmless and very much afraid. That's why I want you and me to be friends, Captain Warren.""Sure!" Captain Elisha nodded emphatically. "That's what I want, too."But that evening, immediately after his return to the apartment, when--Caroline having gone to her own room to remove her wraps--he and the butler were alone, he characteristically unburdened his mind.
"Mr. Warren, sir," said Edwards, "a young gentleman left a note here for you this afternoon. The elevator man gave it to me, sir.
It's on your dressing table, sir."
The captain's answer had nothing whatever to do with the note. He had been thinking of other things.
"Commodore," he said, "I've got the answer."
"To the note? Already, sir? I didn't know you'd seen it.""I ain't. I've got the answer to the conundrum. It's Mother!""Mother, sir? I--I don't know what you mean.""I do. The answer's Mother. Sonny don't count, though he may think he does. But Mother's the whole team and the dog under the wagon. And, Commodore, we've got to trot some if we want to keep ahead of that team! Don't you forget it!"He went to his room, leaving the bewildered butler to retire to the kitchen, where he informed the cook that the old man was off his head worse than common tonight.
"Blessed if he don't think he's a trotting horse!" said Edwards.
