Part 1 (2/2)

Andrew ate as usual, because he was hungry, but he said very little and wore a preoccupied air.

Whitney waited until the meal was finished; then he turned to his comrade as he lighted his pipe.

”There's something worrying you,” he said bluntly. ”Out with it!”

”I was wondering whether you'd mind my not going north with you on the hunting trip this fall.”

”I certainly _would_ mind. All the same, I'll let you off if there's a reason.”

Andrew folded the letter so that the last page came on top and handed it to him with the newspaper. Whitney carefully read the first column in the paper before he looked up. He wanted to understand the situation, and Andrew was not good at explaining.

”I don't quite get the drift of things,” he said. ”First of all, who's Elsie Woodhouse?”

”In a way, she's like d.i.c.k's sister; they were brought up together and Elsie always tried to take care of him--though she's really no relation. d.i.c.k is my cousin.”

Whitney nodded and tried to be patient.

”Do you want to go home because she's anxious about the fellow?” he asked.

”It's rather complicated,” Andrew answered with some hesitation. ”You see, d.i.c.k's father raised me, and I always thought, in his way, he was fond of me.”

Whitney found the workings of his companion's mind more interesting than the particulars about his relatives. Andrew was sometimes slow, but one could rely on his doing the right thing in the end.

”And Elsie?” Whitney suggested. ”Did he raise her too?”

”Oh, no. When he died, d.i.c.k's mother soon married again, a man called Staffer; clever fellow, but I never quite trusted him. Then she died, and Staffer was left in charge of Appleyard until d.i.c.k came of age. He brought his sister there, Mrs. Woodhouse, a widow; and Elsie's her daughter. d.i.c.k and Elsie were both quite young then, but from the beginning Elsie made it her business to take care of d.i.c.k.”

”You like her,” said Whitney, noticing a certain tenderness in his companion's voice.

”Yes,” said Andrew slowly; ”I never liked anybody quite as much. But that's all there is to it. She's much younger than I am, and she'll probably marry d.i.c.k.”

”If she's like his sister and has been looking after him, she more probably won't. I'm getting d.i.c.k fixed as a bit of a maverick. He and his stepfather don't get on.”

”On the contrary, they get on very well; that's the trouble.”

”How?”

Andrew hesitated.

”Well, you see, Staffer does most things well; he's excellent company and a witty talker, the kind of man a lad would try to copy.”

”Makes the pace pretty hot, eh? One of your smart set?”

”He's extravagant, but he never gets into debt. He'll play cards on champagne half the night, and get up next morning as steady as a rock and bring down a cork-s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g snipe with the first barrel. I've seldom seen a better man on a horse.”

”Think I've got him placed. Your cousin will want nerve and judgment to play up to him. But we'll take the newspaper now. Why do you want to go back? You won't fight.”

”I can't,” Andrew replied with some color in his face. ”It's my misfortune; after I fell on the Pillar Rock.”

<script>