Page:Left to Themselves (1891).djvu/193

 "If I ever can I will. Be certain of that," the younger boy rejoined, earnestly.

He turned so as to look Philip in the face affectionately. Philip saw nothing but wakefulness in it; but it was a clear and not too excited look, after all."

"You see," Touchtone continued, "the men—some of them—who did the burglary are probably living. They might be willing to tell more truth about it now than then. Or they might not. There always was more to get at; I know that." There was a pause. "Did I ever tell you about the night my father died?" he asked, solemnly.

"No. Go on, please."

"I was only a little fellow like you at the time. But father meant I should remember, and I have remembered perfectly. It had been an awfully cold day in January. My poor mother was almost worn out with anxiety, for father all at once sank terribly fast about nine o'clock, though the doctor had no idea that he wouldn't last till morning. Did I ever drive you around by that cottage that we rented of Mr. Marcy, where we lived those years after we came? I dare say not; I'm not fond of the road. Well,