Kate stepped down into the porch with outstretched hands. "I am so glad it is you, Phil dear. You must have felt me wishing for you. Come, come in, boy! You don't have half enough of 'high jinks'!"
He shook his head silently.
She made a little grimace. "I forgot—the Cloth does not dance. But surely the Cloth may look on?"
"From afar off, perhaps, out of the way of temptation."
He spoke smilingly, but she reproached herself for thoughtlessness. Philip was very careful not to present himself anywhere that his presence might cause restraint or embarrassment, he never forgot, no matter if others forgot, that he was the son of a convict.
"Then I shall sit out here with you." As she drew closer to him, she saw his face clearly in the light that streamed from the open doorway. It was very pale. "Oh!" she cried. "What is the matter, Philip?"
"My father—"
Her hand went to her heart.
"Not bad news," he said quickly. "Good news. To-day I had a letter from the Governor."
The newly elected Governor of the State had been the presiding judge at Jacques Benoix' trial.