The young half-breed knelt eagerly beside her, and began snatching all that caught his eye.
"My goodness", exclaimed Robert, "you mustn’t do that! The carpenters know just what supplies they have and need them".
"We can buy more", said Adeline. "Besides, there are tons of nails here. No one could miss what we’ve taken".
The half-breed deftly knotted the four corners of the sacking and slipped away. Before he left he gave Adeline a smile of gratitude.
"It will be a wonder to me", said Robert Vaughan, "if anything movable is left on this place after two days. Every thief in the neighbourhood will be here".
"But the Indians are honest. Your father told me so".
"The half-breeds aren’t".
"Tell me about that boy".
"I don’t know much except that his name is Titus Sharrow. They call him Tite. He’s no good. I don’t see why Mr. Wilmott employs him. I am told that he sleeps in the house".
"How does he come to be a half-breed? Are his parents living?"
"I don’t think so. I believe he’s really a quarter French. His mother’s father was a French-Canadian. It’s a shame, the way they took up with the Indian women".
"The boy is charming".
"I call that a funny adjective to use about a half-breed thief".
"He wasn’t stealing".
"Do you think Mr. Wilmott sent him for the nails, then?"
"I dare say", she answered a little huffily, as though Wilmott’s honour were in question, or her friendship for him.
"Well, here comes Captain Whiteoak! Let’s tell him all about it!"
"For pity’s sake, no! Don’t breathe a word of it, please".
Philip strode up. "Adeline, I have a dozen things to ask you", he exclaimed, and they entered on a long and fascinating discussion of building problems.
Two weeks passed and the niece, Daisy Vaughan, arrived. She was a visitor unwanted by all. David Vaughan had not seen his niece since she was in her teens. The slight reports he had had of her were not endearing. Her coming would disarrange his wife’s housekeeping still further and, heaven knew, the Whiteoaks had disarranged it enough for any woman’s endurance. But he had family loyalty. Daisy was his only brother’s only child. She had written him a pathetic letter. He could do no less than offer her hospitality. Mrs. Vaughan would not have dreamed of opposing him but she felt injured. This sense of well-bred and restrained injury encircled her silvery head like a dim halo. Adeline was all on her side. "Dear Mrs. Vaughan", she would say, "this is the last straw for you, I know. Philip and I and our tribe were quite enough but, with your husband’s relations trooping in, ’twill be the end of you. Once that roof is on our house, I promise you we shall decamp".
"Don’t speak of it", said Mrs. Vaughan. "I shall manage".
Robert was certain that Daisy would always be on hand when he wanted to talk to Adeline. If they two walked together Daisy would be present. She was a pushing, unnecessary girl and he hated the thought of her.
Aside from the feeling that her coming would make rather a crowd in the house, Philip was not averse to it. Daisy was a pretty name. She would be sprightly, probably amusing-in truth he was so happily absorbed in the building of his house that events outside it affected him little. He stood somewhat behind the others, his hands in his pockets, while they put the best face on their welcome. Robert had driven the long way to meet her.
She wasn’t petite and she wasn’t pretty. She wasn’t at all like a daisy. But, by Jove, Philip thought, she had self-confidence and she displayed originality in her dress. You could see that, even though it was travel-worn. She kissed her aunt and uncle and was introduced to the Whiteoaks.
"Are you very tired, my dear?" asked Mrs. Vaughan, herself looking very tired.
"Not at all", answered Daisy, "though it was monstrous hot and dusty travelling. The friends I was travelling with from Montreal were half dead but I seem to be made of india-rubber".
As she spoke she untied the wide ribbon of her bonnet from beneath the brim of which her face looked out with an eagerness that seemed to express determination to take in at one glance everything that was to be seen.
"She is like no Vaughan that ever was", thought her uncle.
"I do hope she is not a minx", thought Mrs. Vaughan.
"Egad, what a small waist", was Philip’s inward comment.
"Ugly, but dangerous". Adeline was taking her in. "A grinning hussy. Let her keep away from me!" She said:
"You are not in the least like a daisy. Your parents should not have named you till they’d had a better look at you".
Daisy looked sidewise at her. "Can you think of a flower-name that would suit me better? They were set on a flower-name".
"In Ireland", said Adeline, "there’s a wild flower the peasants call Trollopin’ Bet".
Philip caught Adeline’s fingers in his and pressed them sharply. "Behave yourself!" he said. He gave a startled look at Daisy.
Adeline jerked away her hand like a child who says, "I will do as I please!"
"You can’t offend me", laughed Daisy. "I’m made of india-rubber, as I told you".
"I don’t understand", said Mr. Vaughan. "What did Adeline say?"
"She said I should have been named for that red-haired Queen Elizabeth", answered Daisy. She took off her bonnet and disclosed luxuriant dark hair, dressed elegantly.
The scornful emphasis on the word red-haired had brought the colour to Adeline’s cheeks. She sought for words to fling at the newcomer which would not affront her host and hostess.
"If ’tis my head-" she began.
"Good God!" interrupted Philip. "Nicholas is going to fall downstairs!"
He sprang up the steps, three at a time, to catch the baby who, on hands and knees, had crept to the top to see what was going on. Philip ran down with him in his arms and held him up for the visitor’s inspection.
"What do you think of this", he demanded, "at nine months?"
"The angel!" exclaimed Daisy Vaughan.
Nicholas knew not what shyness was. He sat on his father’s arm, his hair rising in a curly crest, and beamed at the visitor. He had a look of unutterable well-being. When she held out her hands to him he went to her with great good-humour and examined her face with interest.
It was a short face with high cheek-bones, narrow eyes and a turned-up nose. The mouth was large and full of fine teeth. When the under lip met the upper-which it did not often do-it caused the chin to recede a little, though not enough to be disfiguring. She was thin but not bony. Her waist was indeed incredibly small. To this part of her Adeline bent a look of extreme exasperation, for she had recently made certain that she herself was to have another child. The sight of that waist and the thought of what lay before herself was enough to put her out of temper.
"I know nothing of babies", said Daisy, "but to me this one seems the most beautiful I have seen. Is he your only child?" She raised her eyes to Philip’s face.
"We have a little daughter", he answered. "She’s up there somewhere with her nurse".
"How lovely! How old is she?"
"I’m not quite sure. How old is Gussie, Adeline?"
"I’m damned if I know", returned Adeline bitterly. "But I know I had her".
She took care to lower her voice so that Mrs. Vaughan should not hear her, who now exclaimed:
"Gussie is the dearest child and so intelligent! Will you let me take you to your room now, my dear? Then you must have something to eat".
David Vaughan went to the dining-room to fetch a decanter of sherry. Robert followed his mother and Daisy up the stairs, carrying Daisy’s dressing-case. The Whiteoaks were alone in the hall. Philip had again taken Nicholas into his own arms. He said with a stern look at Adeline: