over. I'll see you by and by."
When Mrs. Corcoran Dunn made her daily visit to the Warren apartment
that afternoon, she found Caroline alone and almost in tears. Captain
Elisha had broken the news at the table during luncheon, after which
he went downtown. Stephen, having raved, protested, and made himself
generally disagreeable and his sister correspondingly miserable, had
departed for the club. It was a time for confidences, and the wily Mrs.
Dunn realized that fact. She soothed, comforted, and within half an
hour, had learned the whole story. Caroline told her all, the strange
will, the disclosure concerning the country uncle, and the inexplicable
clauses begging the latter to accept the executorship, the trust, and
the charge of her brother and herself. Incidentally she mentioned that
a possible five hundred thousand was the extreme limit of the family's
pecuniary resources.
"Now you know everything," sobbed Caroline. "Oh, Mrs. Dunn, _you_ won't
desert us, will you?"
The widow's reply was a triumph, of its kind. In it were expressed
sorrow, indignation, pity, and unswerving loyalty. Desert them? Desert
the young people, toward whom she had come to feel almost like a mother?
Never!
"You may depend on Malcolm and me, my dear," she declared. "We are not
fair-weather friends. And, after all, it is not so very bad. Affairs
might be very much worse."
"Worse! Oh, Mrs. Dunn, how could they be? Think of it! Stephen and I are
dependent upon him for everything. We must ask him for every penny. And
whatever he says to do we _must_ do. We're obliged to. Just think! if he
decides to take us back with him to--South Denboro, or whatever dreadful
place he comes from, we shall have to go--and live there."
"But he won't, my dear. He won't. It will take some time to settle your
father's affairs, and the business will have to be transacted here in
New York."
"I know. I suppose that's true. But that doesn't make it any easier.
If he stops here he will stay with us. And what shall we do? We can't
introduce him to our friends, or, at least, to any except our best, our
understanding friends, like you and Malcolm."
"Why, I'm not sure. He is rather--well--er--countryfied, but I believe
he has a good heart. He is not rude or unkind or anything of that sort,
is he?"
"No. No-o. He's not that, at all. In fact, he means to be kind in his
way. But it's such a different way from ours. He is not used to society;
he wouldn't under
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