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 other voice, "and Marcy's proud of him, I can see. I guess he'll turn out a credit in spite of his father. What time is it? My watch has stopped."

"Come," said Philip, softly. He walked away with Gerald. Neither spoke.

At length Gerald said, gently, "Is that all, Philip? You made me listen!"

"All?" replied young Touchtone, bitterly. "Isn't it enough? Yes, I made you listen! I wanted you to know the story before you saw any more of me. There's another side to it, but that isn't the one you will find people trouble themselves over. I wanted you to hear what you did. But I couldn't tell you myself. I am the son of—of—my father. I don't care for mere outsiders, who know it already and think none the worse of me for it. But other people, if I care any thing about them, why, they must know with whom they are taking up."

It cost him a struggle to say this. Gerald was younger than he. But the manly, solitary little guest of the Ossokosee had gained in these two days a curious hold over him. Philip had never had a brother. If he had ever thought of one, the ideal conjured up would