Part 9 (2/2)
”That'll be the best way, mother. Start him off to-morrow, if you can.”
”I won't keep him long, you may be sure of that.”
By this time Colonel Ross had reached home, and his wife communicated to him the unwelcome intelligence of Uncle Obed's arrival, and advised him as to the course she thought best to pursue.
”Poor old man!” said the colonel, with more consideration than his wife or son possessed. ”I suppose he felt solitary out there.”
”That isn't our lookout,” said Mrs. Ross, impatiently. ”It's right enough to say poor old man. He looks as poor as poverty. He'll be better off in Illinois.”
”Perhaps you are right, but I wouldn't like to send him off empty-handed. I'll buy his ticket, and give him fifty dollars, so that he need not suffer.”
”It seems to me that is too much. Twenty dollars, or ten, would be liberal.”
The cold-hearted woman seemed to forget the years during which her uncle had virtually supported her.
”No, Lucinda; I shall give him fifty.”
”You should think of your son, Colonel Ross,” said his wife. ”Don't impoverish him by your foolish generosity.”
Colonel Ross shrugged his shoulders.
”Philip will have all the money that will be good for him,” he said.
”Very well; as you please. Only get him off as soon as you can. It is mortifying to me to have such a looking old man here claiming relations.h.i.+p to me.”
”He is your uncle, Lucinda, and you must mention the plan to him.”
”Very well.”
It was a task which Mrs. Ross did not shrink from, for she had no fear of hurting the feelings of Uncle Obed, or, rather, she did not care whether he chose to feel hurt or not.
Uncle Obed was called down to supper, and took his seat at the handsome tea table, with its silver service. Colonel Ross, to his credit be it said, received his wife's uncle much more cordially than his own niece had done, and caused Uncle Obed's face to beam with pleasure.
”Railly, Lucinda,” said Uncle Obed, as he looked over the table, ”you have a very comfortable home, I declare.”
”Yes, we try to have things comfortable around us,” answered Mrs. Ross, coldly.
”Years ago, when you and your mother lived out in Illinoy, I didn't think you'd come to live in a house like this.”
”Yes, people live in an outlandish way out there,” said Mrs. Ross.
”But they have happy homes. When Mary lived, I enjoyed life, though the old farmhouse seemed rough and plain, compared with your handsome home.
I'm glad to see my sister's child living so well, with all the comforts that money can buy.”
The old man's tone was hearty, and there was a smile of genuine pleasure on his rugged face. He was forced to admit that his niece was not as cordial as he hoped, but, then, ”Lucinda was always reserved and quiet-like,” he said to himself, and so excused her.
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