David took the bit of paper, all blistered with boyish tears, where a penitent little hand, out of the depths of a desolate little heart, had scrawled the promise: "Dear Papa,—I will be good."
A sob shook the man's strong frame as he read it.
"I think he will be very glad to have you give him that," he answered. "You'd better put it in his pocket before any one comes in."
Lee slipped down from his lap, and crossed the room. "O, I can't," he moaned, attempting to lift the lifeless hands.
David reached down, and unbuttoning the coat, laid the promise of the little prodigal gently on his father's heart, to await its reading in the glad light of the resurrection morning. Then he called some one else to take his place, and went to telephone for a sleigh. In a little while he was driving through the twilight out one of the white country roads, with Lee beside him, that nature's wintry solitudes might lay a cool hand of healing sympathy on the boy's sore heart.
Bethany took him home with her after the funeral, and kept him a week.
Miss Caroline and Miss Harriet petted him with all the ardor of their motherly old hearts. Jack did his best to amuse him, and with the elasticity of childhood, he began to recover his usual vivacity.
"This can not go on always," Mr. Marion said to Bethany one day. He had gone up to the office to talk to her about it.
Dr. Trent had left a small insurance, requesting that Frank Marion be appointed guardian.