“At least you’re not obliged to stay here where you’re not wanted,” he
said, explosively.
Winthrop smiled deprecatingly.
“Mr. Wayne, I’d like to ask you one question. Did you come here this
morning on purpose to pick a quarrel with me?”
“I came to apologize for what happened Saturday night. I’ve told you so
already.”
“You have. You have apologized like a gentleman and I have accepted
your apology without reservations. That is finished. And now I’d like
to make a suggestion.”
“Well?” asked Julian, suspiciously.
“And that is that if your errand is at an end you withdraw from my
property until you can address me without insults.”
Julian’s face flushed; he opened his lips to speak, choked back the
words, and arose from his chair.
“Don’t misunderstand me, please,” went on Winthrop, quietly. “I am not
turning you out. I should be glad to have you remain as long as you
like. Only, if you please, as long as you are in a measure my guest,
you will kindly refrain from impertinent criticisms of my actions. I’d
dislike very much to have you weaken my faith in Southern courtesy, Mr.
Wayne.”
Julian’s reply was never made, for at that instant Holly and Miss India
came out on the porch. Holly’s first glance was toward Winthrop. Then,
with slightly heightened color, she greeted Julian kindly. He seized
her hand and looked eagerly into her smiling face.
“Am I forgiven?” he asked, in an anxious whisper.
“Hush,” she answered, “it is I who should ask that. But we’ll forgive
each other.” She turned to Winthrop, who had arisen at their appearance,
and Julian greeted Miss India.
“What have you gentlemen been talking about for so long?” asked Holly,
gayly.
“Many things,” answered Winthrop. “Mr. Wayne was kind enough to express
his regrets for my accident. Afterwards we discussed”――he paused and
shot a whimsical glance at Julian’s uneasy countenance――“Southern
customs, obsolete and otherwise.”
“It sounds very uninteresting,” laughed Holly. Then――“Why, Uncle Ran
hasn’t taken your horse around, Julian,” she exclaimed.
“I didn’t call him. I am going right back.”
“Nonsense, Julian, dinner is coming on the table now,” said Holly.
“It’s much too warm to ride in the middle of the day,” said Miss India,
decisively. “Tell Phœbe to lay another place, Holly.” Julian hesitated
and shot a questioning glance at Winthrop.
“You are quite right, Miss India,” said Winthrop. “This is no time to
do twelve miles on horseback. You must command Mr. Wayne to remain. No
one, I am sure, has ever dared disregard a command of yours.”
“I’ll tell Phœbe and call Uncle Ran,” said Holly. But at the door she
turned and looked across the garden. “Why, here is Uncle Major! We’re
going to have a regular dinner party, Auntie.”
The Major, very warm and somewhat breathless, was limping his way
hurriedly around the rose-bed, his cane tapping the ground with
unaccustomed force.
“Good-morning, Miss India,” he called. “Good-morning, Holly;
good-morning, gentlemen. Have you heard the news?”
“Not a word of it,” cried Holly, darting to the steps and pulling him
up. “Tell me quick!”
The Major paused at the top of the little flight, removed his hat,
wiped his moist forehead, and looked impressively about the circle.
“The battleship _Maine_ was blown up last night in Havanna harbor by
the damned――I beg your pardon, ladies――by the pesky Spaniards and
nearly three hundred officers and men were killed.”
“Oh!” said Holly, softly.
“I never!” gasped Miss India.
“It is known that the Spanish did it?” asked Winthrop, gravely.
“There can be no doubt of it,” answered the Major. “They just got the
news half an hour ago at the station and particulars are meager, but
there’s no question about how it happened.”
“But this,” cried Julian, “means――――!”
“It means intervention at last!” said the Major. “And intervention
means war, by Godfrey!”
“War!” echoed Julian, eagerly.
“And if it wasn’t for this da――this trifling leg of mine, I’d volunteer
to-morrow,” declared the Major.
“How awful!” sighed Miss India. “Think of all those sailors that are
killed! I never did like the Spanish, Major.”
“It may be,” said Winthrop, “that the accident will prove to have been
caused by an explosion on board.”
“Shucks!” said Julian. “That’s rubbish! The Spaniards did it, as sure
as fighting, and, by Jupiter, if they think they can blow up our ships
and kill our men and not suffer for it―――― How long do you reckon it’ll
be, Major, before we declare war on them?”
“Can’t say; maybe a week, maybe a month. I reckon Congress will have to
chew it over awhile. But it’s bound to come, and――well, I reckon I’m
out of it, Julian,” concluded the Major, with a sigh.
“But I’m not!” cried the other. “I’ll go with the hospital corps. It’s
the chance of a lifetime, Major! Why, a man can get more experience in
two weeks in a field hospital than he can in two years anywhere else!
Why――――”
“The bell has rung,” interposed Miss India. “You must take dinner with
us, Major, and tell us everything you know. Dear, dear, I feel quite
worked up! I remember when the news came that our army had fired on
Fort Sumter――――”
Winthrop laid his hand on the Major’s arm and halted him.
“Major,” he said, smiling slightly, “don’t you think you ought to
explain to them that the _Maine_ wasn’t a Confederate battleship, that
she belonged to the United States and that probably more than half her
officers and men were Northerners?”
“Eh? What?” The Major stared bewilderedly a moment. Then he chuckled
and laid one big knotted hand on Winthrop’s shoulder. “Mr. Winthrop,
sir,” he said, “I reckon all that doesn’t matter so much now.”