“Which reminds me, Uncle Seth, that you never discuss with me any of the matters pertaining to my business interests,” she suggested.
He beamed upon her with his patronizing and indulgent smile. “There is no reason why you should puzzle that pretty head of yours with business affairs while I am alive and on the job,” he answered. “However, since you have expressed a desire to have this railroad situation explained to you, I will do so. I am not interested in seeing a feeder built from Sequoia north to Grant's Pass, and connecting with the Southern Pacific, but I am tremendously interested in seeing a feeder built south from Sequoia toward San Francisco, to connect with the Northwestern Pacific.”
“For cold, calculating business reasons, my dear.” He hesitated a moment and then resumed: “A few months ago I would not have told you the things I am about to tell you, Shirley, for the reason that a few months ago it seemed to me you were destined to become rather friendly with young Cardigan. When that fellow desires to be agreeable, he can be rather a likable boy--lovable, even. You are both young; with young people who have many things in common and are thrown together in a community like Sequoia, a lively friendship may develop into an ardent love; and it has been my experience that ardent love not infrequently leads to the altar.”
Shirley blushed, and her uncle chuckled good-naturedly. “Fortunately,” he continued, “Bryce Cardigan had the misfortune to show himself to you in his true colours, and you had the good sense to dismiss him. Consequently I see no reason why I should not explain to you now what I considered it the part of wisdom to withhold from you at that time--provided, of course, that all this does not bore you to extinction.”
“Do go on, Uncle Seth. I'm tremendously interested,” averred Shirley.
“Shortly after I launched the Laguna Grande Lumber Company--in which, as your guardian and executor of your father's estate, I deemed it wise to invest part of your inheritance--I found myself forced to seek further for sound investments for your surplus funds. Now, good timber, bought cheap, inevitably will be sold dear. At least, such has been my observation during a quarter of a century--and old John Cardigan had some twenty thousand acres of the finest redwood timber in the State--timber which had cost him an average price of less than fifty cents per thousand.