besides one to Lady Adela, containing only the reference, Luke xv. 32.
People looked somewhat curiously at the thin, worn-looking, elderly man, with the travelling bag in one hand, and the little boy holding tight by the other, each with a countenance of radiant gladness; and again, to see how, when seated, he allowed himself to be climbed over and clasped by the sturdy being, who seemed almost overwhelming to one so slight.
When the September twilight darkened into night, Michael, who had been asleep, awoke with a scream and flung both arms round his father’s neck, exclaiming—
‘Oh, Louey, I’ll not cry! Don’t let him throw me out! Oh, the nasty man!’
And even when convinced that no nasty man was present, and that it was papa, not Louey, whom he was grappling, he still nestled as close as possible, while he was only pacified in recurring frights by listening to a story. Never good at story-telling, the only one that, for the nonce, his father could put together was that of Joseph, and this elicited various personal comparisons.
‘Mine wasn’t a coat of many colours, it was my blue frock! Did they dip it in blood, papa?’
‘Not quite, my darling, but it was the same thing.’
Then presently, ‘It wasn’t a camel, but a puff puff, and he was so cross!’
By and by, ‘I didn’t tell anybody’s dreams, papa. They didn’t make me ride in a cha-rot, but nurse made me monitor, ‘cause I knew all my letters. I
should like to have a brother Benjamin. Mayn’t Tommy be my brother? Wasn’t Joseph’s mamma very glad?’