Hampton wheeled about on the hard chair, and regarded her quizzingly.
"Mrs. Guffy," he said, slowly, "you've been a mother to me, and it
would certainly be unkind not to give you a straight tip. Do? Why,
take care of her, of course. What else would you expect of one
possessing my kindly disposition and well-known motives of
philanthropy? Can it be that I have resided with you, off and on, for
ten years past without your ever realizing the fond yearnings of my
heart? Mrs. Guffy, I shall make her the heiress to my millions; I
shall marry her off to some Eastern nabob, and thus attain to that high
position in society I am so well fitted to adorn--sure, and what else
were you expecting, Mrs. Guffy?"

"A loikely story," with a sniff of disbelief. "They tell me she 's old
Gillis's daughter over to Bethune."

"They tell you, do they?" a sudden gleam of anger darkening his gray
eyes. "Who tell you?"

"Sure, Bob, an' thet 's nuthin' ter git mad about, so fur as I kin see.
The story is in iverybody's mouth. It wus thim sojers what brought ye
in thet tould most ov it, but the lieutenant,--Brant of the Seventh
Cavalry, no less,--who took dinner here afore he wint back after the
dead bodies, give me her name."

"Brant of the Seventh?" He faced her fairly now, his face again
haggard and gray, all the slight gleam of fun gone out of it. "Was
that the lad's name?"

"Sure, and didn't ye know him?"