Neither could Mr Prothero, to judge from the expression of his face. He read each letter twice over, and seemed struggling with some great emotion as he ejaculated, 'Rowland, my boy!' and burst into tears.
Mr Prothero had not cried before since Netta's death, and those were, indeed, precious tears.
Minette, terrified at seeing her grandfather cry, ran off in search of Gladys, who had been every one's refuge since her marriage.
She and Owen were at the front door, receiving Mr and Mrs Jonathan Prothero, who had just arrived.
'Aunty, grandfather is crying,' said the child. 'You said you wished he would cry; but I don't like it. I think he is crying for poor mamma, who is in heaven, and can't come to him.'
All hurried into the parlour.
They found Mr Prothero holding one of his son's hands, and shaking it nervously, and Mrs Prothero holding the other, and vain attempts to speak.
'Brother Jo! sister-in-law! Just in time. If our Netta was but here!' said Mr Prothero. 'Mrs Jonathan shall read the letters. It was she who got him the curacy.'
Mrs Jonathan was not a little surprised to be greeted by having two letters thrust into her hands, and being requested to read them.
'This one first, sister-in-law.'