"I think some Italian poet has written on that subject, sir."
"But not as it should be written, Allen. However, I can't waste time now in enlightening your ignorance. What have you here?"
"A parcel for you," and Allen gave it.
"For me, really." Mr. Hill was like a child with a new toy, and sat down on the grass by the gate to open it. The removal of the brown paper revealed a cardboard box. Hill lifted the lid, and there were two dry sticks tied in the form of a cross with a piece of grass. But Allen looked at this only for a moment. His father had turned white, and after a moment quietly fainted away. The young man looked down with a haggard face. "Am I right after all?" he asked himself.
CHAPTER X
[MRS. HILL EXPLAINS]
An hour later Allen was conversing with his mother. Mr. Hill, carried into the house by Allen, had been revived; but he steadfastly refused to speak as to the cause of his fainting; and put it down to the heat of the weather and to his having taken too long a walk. These excuses were so feeble that the son could not help his lip curling at their manifest untruth. Hill saw this and told Allen he would lie down for an hour or so. "When I rise I may tell you something," he said feebly.
"I think we may as well understand one another," said Allen coldly.
"Bring in here those things which came in the parcel," said Hill.
"Only one thing came," replied his son--"a rough cross----"