to-night George began a jubilant warfare upon his Aunt Fanny, opening the campaign upon his return home at about eleven o'clock. Fanny had retired, and was presumably asleep, but George, on the way to his own room, paused before her door, and serenaded her in a full baritone:
Isabel came from George's room, where she had been reading, waiting for him. “I'm afraid you'll disturb your father, dear. I wish you'd sing more, though—in the daytime! You have a splendid voice.”
“Good-night, old lady!”
“I thought perhaps I Didn't you want me to come in with you and talk a little?”
“Not to-night. You go to bed. Good-night, old lady!”
He kissed her hilariously, entered his room with a skip, closed his door noisily; and then he could be heard tossing things about, loudly humming “The Man that Broke the Bank at Monte Carlo.”
Smiling, his mother knelt outside his door to pray; then, with her “Amen,” pressed her lips to the bronze door-knob; and went silently to her own apartment.
... After breakfasting in bed, George spent the next morning at his grandfather's and did not encounter his Aunt Fanny until lunch, when she seemed to be ready for him.
“Thank you so much for the serenade, George!” she said. “Your poor father tells me he'd just got to sleep for the first time in two nights, but after your kind attentions he lay awake the rest of last night.”
“Perfectly true,” Mr. Minafer said grimly.
“Of course, I didn't know, sir,” George hastened to assure him. “I'm awfully sorry. But Aunt Fanny was so gloomy and excited before I went out, last evening, I thought she needed cheering up.”
“I!” Fanny jeered. “I was gloomy? I was excited? You mean about that engagement?”
“Yes. Weren't you? I thought I heard you worrying over somebody's being engaged. Didn't I hear you say you'd heard Mr. Eugene Morgan was engaged to marry some pretty little seventeen-year-old girl?”
Fanny was stung, but she made a brave effort. “Did you ask Lucy?” she said, her voice almost refusing the teasing laugh she tried to make it utter. “Did you ask her when Fred Kinney and she”
“Yes. That story wasn't true. But the other one” Here he stared at Fanny, and then affected dismay. “Why, what's the matter with your face, Aunt Fanny? It seems agitated!”
“Agitated!” Fanny said disdainfully, but her voice undeniably lacked steadiness. “Agitated!”
“Oh, come!” Mr. Minafer interposed. “Let's have a little peace!”
“I'm willing,” said George. “I don't want to see poor Aunt Fanny all stirred up over a rumour I just this minute invented myself. She's so excitable—about certain subjects—it's hard to control her.” He turned to his mother. “What's the matter with grandfather?”
“Didn't you see him this morning?” Isabel asked.
“Yes. He was glad to see me, and all that, but he seemed pretty fidgety. Has he been having trouble with his heart again?”
“Not lately. No.”
“Well, he's not himself. I tried to talk to him about the estate; it's disgraceful—it really is—the way things are looking. He wouldn't listen, and he seemed upset. What's he upset over?”
Isabel looked serious; however, it was her husband who suggested gloomily, “I suppose the Major's bothered about this Sydney and Amelia business, most likely.”
“What Sydney and Amelia business?” George asked.
“Your mother can tell you, if she wants to,” Minafer said. “It's not my side of the family, so I keep off.”
“It's rather disagreeable for all of us, Georgie,” Isabel began. “You see, your Uncle Sydney wanted a diplomatic position, and he thought brother George, being in Congress, could arrange it. George did get him the offer of a South American ministry, but Sydney wanted a European ambassadorship, and he got quite indignant with poor George for thinking he'd take anything smaller—and he believes George didn't work hard enough for him. George had done his best, of course, and now he's out of Congress, and won't run again—so there's Sydney's idea of a big diplomatic position gone for good. Well, Sydney and your Aunt Amelia are terribly disappointed, and they say they've been thinking for years that this town isn't really fit to live in—'for a gentleman,' Sydney says—and it is getting rather big and dirty. So they've sold their house and decided to go abroad to live permanently; there's a villa near Florence they've often talked of buying. And they want father to let them have their share of the estate now, instead of waiting for him to leave it to them in his will.”
“Well, I suppose that's fair enough,” George said. “That is, in case he intended to leave them a certain amount in his will.”