“No, I don’t know as there is--nothin’ special. Oh, yes, while I think of it,” lowering his voice, “I’m collectin’ a good-sized bunch to go to the rally and holler for the cranberry bill. I’ll have ’em there. You can count on me for that, Cap’n Foster.” “Get up!” commanded Townsend, addressing the horses. “I’ll be over to-morrow,” Millard shouted after them. Then he returned, swollen with importance, to the much-impressed group by the pillars. Townsend frowned. “Jackass!” he snorted. Then, after a moment, he added. “That fellow is likely to be a nuisance, I’m afraid. I won’t have him hanging around the place. I don’t want him there. If he comes to-morrow you tell Nabby or Ellen you can’t see him.” Esther looked at him. She had never cherished deep affection for, nor a high opinion of, her Uncle Millard, but the sight of him had been a sharp reminder of the home she had just left and all its associations. And the contempt in the captain’s tone stung. “I want to see him,” she declared. “Yes, I do.” “What! You want to see--_him_! For heaven’s sake, why?” “Because--because I do. I’ve lived with him ever since I can remember. _He_ is my uncle, too.” Townsend rubbed his beard. His frown deepened. “Humph!” he grunted. The remainder of the drive was less pleasant than that preceding. The captain said very little and his niece was close to tears. In one way she was sorry she had spoken as she had, in another she was not. For some illogical reason the sneer at Mr. Clark, she felt, included her; it had hurt her pride, and the brusque order that she refuse to see him when he called was disturbing. Her Aunt Reliance had assured her, over and over again, that her moving to the big house did not mean the slightest change in their relationship; they would all see each other every day at least, and perhaps several times a day. She had relied on that assurance. Now her faith was shaken. If she could not see Millard might not the next order be that she could not see her aunt? That she would not obey--no, she would not. Townsend, himself, was not entirely easy in his mind. It was early--or so it seemed to him--for symptoms of rebellion in this new relationship. And open rebellion of any sort was an unaccustomed insult to his imperial will. He was ruffled, but it was not long before his strong common sense took command. He even chuckled inwardly at the thought of the girl’s defiance. She was no soft-soaper, at any rate. She had a will of her own, too, and pluck to back it. She _was_ a Townsend. Well, he had boasted to Reliance that very morning of his ability to handle a skittish colt. He would handle this one, and if tact, rather than the whip, was needed he would use that. When they drove up to the side door of the mansion and he helped her to alight from the dog-cart he was good-natured, even jolly, and ignored her very evident agitation, seemed not to notice it.