Page:Conflict (1927).pdf/319

 She crossed the kitchen, put both hands on Phillip's shoulders and said quietly, 'You're going to be a wonderful carpenter some day, Phillip.'

'Yes,' he agreed confidently, 'just like Father.'

Felix was a carpenter now, working daily in the box-factory near by. Phillip was always saying he wanted to be like his father, and following him closely about like a dog his master. Phillip's devotion to his father, like his smile, was deep and abiding. And Sheilah was as anxious to preserve it. It seemed to her as if Phillip's little hot coal of love for Felix must compensate a little for all she had failed to give him.

'Were there any letters?' she now inquired.

Phillip usually stopped at the post-office on his —way home from school.

'Yes,' he replied. 'I forgot. Three. For you.'

Phillip could read handwriting now. Sheilah usually had him tell her whom the letters were for, and when the postmarks were clear enough, from what city they were mailed. But to-day she was too eager to stop for the spelling lesson. It was Tuesday. Laetitia's and Roddie's Sunday letters came on Tuesday.

Laetitia was in college now. Sheilah's early fears about Laetitia, and her tendency toward cheapness in taste and manners, had disappeared. A desire for an education, and the fineness that goes with it, had