"
He was about to bestow an admonitory kick on his dog, who had been
indiscreet enough to rise at his master's first move, but his foot
stopped in mid air, in his anxiety to concentrate all his attention
on his answer.
"I am a man of few sentimentalities," he coldly averred. "I have
loved but one person in my whole life. Why then should I be expected
to mourn over a niece who did not care enough for me to invite me
to her wedding? It would be an affectation unworthy the man who has
at last come to fill his rightful position in this community as the
owner of the great Moore estate. For great it shall be," he
emphatically continued. "In three years you will not know the house
over yonder. Despite its fancied ghosts and death-dealing fireplace,
it will stand A Number One in Washington. I, David Moore, promise you
this; and I am not a man to utter fatuous prophecies. But I must be
missed over there." Here he gave the mastiff the long delayed kick.
"Rudge, stay here! The vestibule opposite is icy. Besides, your
howls are not wanted in those old walls tonight even if you would go
with me, which I doubt. He has never been willing to cross to that
side of the street," the old gentleman went on to complain, with his
first show of irritation. "But he'll have to overcome that prejudice
soon, even if I have to tear up the old hearthstone and reconstruct
the walls.
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