CHAPTER VII.
News for Mrs. Morrison.
'Oh dear, how late you are for luncheon! it always happens so, if I want you to come home early!'
'Can't help it, my dear,' said Dr. Morrison, as he began to take off his coat.
But his wife was too impatient to let him do it this time. 'Come in here while they put luncheon on the table,' she said, and she drew him into the little room. 'I have had a letter. Guess who it is from.'
But Dr. Morrison shook his head. 'I am too hungry to guess anything,' he said. 'Is it from the man in the moon?'
'Almost as wonderful,' said the lady. 'It is from Dick, dear old Dick! I feel ready to jump for joy.'
The doctor stood still and looked at his wife in blank amazement. 'From Dick? your brother Dick?' he said at last.
'Oh dear, don't speak like that, as though the poor fellow had ever done anything wicked! I have heard you say many times that he was only weak, not wicked.'
'Yes, yes, I know he is only weak; only too ready to say "Yes," and be led into mischief, when he ought to say "No," and stand to it. Think what his easy-going ways have cost us.'