"No, no," Mrs. Wyndham agreed, "only I thought, as he has got on in the world—but, there, he must just take us as he finds us!"
"Tell us some more about him, father," said Madge; "how old is his little girl?"
"Nearly fifteen, so she must be quite a big girl, my dear." And Mr. Wyndham, who was in excellent spirits, continued to talk of his old school friend at length, whilst his wife and children evinced great interest in listening to him.
"And he was only a poor, common boy once," Violet remarked wonderingly by-and-by; "and now I suppose he has become very rich, father?"
"I don't know that he is very rich, Vi," Mr. Wyndham answered gravely; "but he is certainly a prosperous man. Yes, he used to be poor, but never common. A common man could never have made the position in life which my old friend has done. I should say he is decidedly uncommon."
Violet flushed and hung her head, for there was reproof in her father's voice.
"He was always a true gentleman at heart," Mr. Wyndham proceeded; "he deserves success, and I am glad it has come to him. I am sure you will all like him, for he is one of the most kindly and genial of men."
"I am glad you met him, Clement, since you are so pleased at having done so," Mrs. Wyndham said, speaking more cordially; "we will certainly make him welcome when he comes."
Having finished tea, Mr. Wyndham went to his study, a small apartment intended for a breakfast room, simply furnished with a writing-desk and a few chairs; and the children prepared their lessons for the following day. Ruth found some difficulty in concentrating her thoughts; for her mind was full of her father's friend, and occupied with one of the puzzles of life—why success should be given to some and denied to others. No man could work harder or more conscientiously than her own father; and yet, so far, success had not come to him. Why did God keep it from him? she wondered. It was very difficult to believe that He knew best.