Page:Left to Themselves (1891).djvu/59



HEY had just finished dressing next morning. Philip was asking himself whether, after all the fun of the last few days, the idea of adding up columns of figures in the office was a pleasant one.

"Come in," was Gerald's reply to a knock.

"Good-morning," said Mr. Marcy. In his hand was the letter.

"Gerald," he began, walking up to the lounge, "your father wants you."

"Papa!" exclaimed the boy, starting up as Mr. Marcy sat down. "Where is he? When did he come? Isn't that just like him!"

"No, sit down," laughed Mr. Marcy, holding up the letter. He isn't down-stairs. He's just where he was, in Nova Scotia. Listen to this and tell me what you think of it."

He read, while Philip listened from across the room: