And "Red" ran into the kitchen. No sooner had he left the room, than there was a rumble, and Uncle Henry burst in on Gilbert, a smile of triumph on his face. "I got it!" he all but yelled. "Got what?" his nephew asked. "An idea!... Mebbe he'd lend you some." "Some what? And who?" "Money, of course! That feller Pell, I mean. He's rich, an' if he knowed that you and his wife was old friends--I betcher he'd lend you some." He paused, breathless, for he had run his sentences into one. Gilbert glared at him, as if he thought he had gone stark mad. But Uncle Henry was not afraid. "You won't ask him?" he inquired. "Certainly not. What are you raving about, anyhow? Cut out this sort of talk, Uncle. You're getting on my nerves." The old man simply switched his chair about. He had heard Gilbert in an angry mood before, and he knew that nothing would follow his little burst of wrath. "Oh, you make me tired, you young people," he raged. "I'd ask him if it was me, you can bet I would!" "_You_ would," was all that Gilbert replied. Sarcasm was in his voice. "First you won't marry Hardy's daughter and now you won't ask him for money," Uncle Henry pursued the subject. Gilbert was genuinely angry now. "Oh, keep quiet! I'm sick of your plans." "Yes, but if you ain't goin' to do nothing, I am!" His nephew wouldn't trust himself to hear another word. He turned on his heel and left the old man. Uncle Henry was shaking with excitement. He lifted his hand, smote the arm of his chair, and cried out after the vanishing figure of his nephew, "You make me sick, you gol darn fool!" He was almost in tears. "Gol darn the gol darn luck, anyhow!" At that moment, Lucia Pell came down the little stairway. She had discarded her riding-habit, and now looked equally lovely in a simple frock of blue. "What's the matter?" she inquired, seeing at once that something was troubling Uncle Henry. "What _ain't_ the matter?" the old fellow screamed, but glad of someone to whom he could unburden his overflowing heart. "Gol darn it! By gollies! I got it again!" he cried, seized with another inspiration. He eyed the radiant Lucia, as a miser might appraise a new gold coin. "Mis' Pell," he said, twirling his chair so that he caught a better glimpse of her. "Yes?" she said, half-way down. "You and Gil's old friends, ain't you?" The question was as direct as anything could be. "Yes," was the equally direct answer. "Want to do him a good turn?" asked the scheming old man. "Of course. What do you mean?" She was at his side now. "He's got a chance to make a swell marriage," announced Uncle Henry. "What?" There was a curious catch in Lucia's voice. "A rich marriage," Uncle Henry went on, almost smacking his lips over the words. Lucia went over to the window, so that she would not face the invalid.