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 remain in privacy—alone with his own thoughts and his God—while Craig and Dave waited without….

After an hour he appeared, and his face was a face of peace; his joy was piteous…. “I—I want to tell him,” he said tremulously. “I want to—tell my boy!…”

He called to Angus, who stood surprised, expectant in the presence of his three best friends…. Henry G., eager as a child, glowing with happiness, sought to find roundabout words—to approach the truth without baldness…. But he spoke baldly; could find no words but bald, direct words.

“Angus—Angus—I have learned—we have learned—that my daughter—was your mother.”

Angus did not speak, did not go to his grandfather, but turned and walked slowly to the window like one in a dream, and stood there blindly…. Henry G. would have followed him, but Dave Wilkins touched his arm. “Wait,” he said, “give him time.”

Presently, it may have been five minutes, it may have been less, for at such a moment time crawls on leaden feet, Angus turned and came back to them. He searched his grandfather’s face with questioning eyes, and as the old gentleman held out his hand in welcome Angus grasped