John Morgan also spoke about the mortgage and Mr. Berkeley’s absence; and, although he could not say anything about either of these things which could give any real encouragement, it was pleasant to Phil to be talked to by a man who was both sensible and sympathetic.
The next day Chap came around and proposed that they should set off again in the search for Mr. Berkeley, but Phil would not consent. If his uncle was so angry with him that he did not want to see him, he did not feel like forcing himself upon him.
He felt besides that they could not find his uncle now. There had been some chance, indeed, when they started off before; but by this time his uncle was probably hundreds of miles away. He had no doubt dropped the note into the post-office just before he left town.
The next day was Sunday, and on Monday morning Phil rose with a feeling that something must soon happen to put an end to this strange state of affairs. From what Mr. Harrison had told him, he supposed that legal proceedings would begin with the beginning of the week. What would happen to him if the place were sold he did not know. His uncle was his nearest relative, and he did not seem to count for much just now. Perhaps he would go and stay with Chap for a time, until something turned up. He could certainly do work enough to pay for his board. At any rate, it was too doleful a thing to walk about the place and talk of his misery, so he took off his coat, and went out into the field to help the men bind the sheaves.
Chap, like a good fellow, took off his coat also, and went out to help his friend. Binding wheat, he declared, was one of the jolliest sports in the world. He would have preferred, however, to go to work upon the old wreck, and get money enough to do away at once with all the troubles that hung over Hyson Hall. But it was of no use to talk to Phil of anything of that kind now.
While the boys were at dinner that day, Susan was standing on the front porch in a very disconsolate mood. The whole household, indeed, felt the shadow of the coming troubles, and no one, except John Morgan, made even an attempt to be cheerful. Susan had many reasons for feeling badly. She pitied Phil very much, and her conscience reproached her for having treated him so unkindly immediately after his uncle went away. But not only did she grieve that the Berkeleys should lose their home, but she was sorry on her own account. For many years Hyson Hall had been her home, and she had expected it to be such for many years to come. Her depression was greatly increased by the loss of Old Bruden. Now that the Tourons had possession of the master’s gun, the matter in her mind was pretty well settled.
While thinking over these things, she heard the sound of approaching wheels. Looking up, she saw the grocer’s buggy and the grocer’s horse coming towards the house. Her heart fell within her. It actually made her sick to think that anybody—unless, indeed, it should be Mr. Godfrey Berkeley—should come to that house. Visitors meant trouble. This could not be the French boy coming back? No; it was two gentlemen.
She went into the dining-room to tell Phil of the approaching visitors. Chap jumped up and looked out of the window.
“Borden and Tousey’s horse and buggy!” he exclaimed; “but I don’t know the men. They are a couple of solemn-looking coves.”
Phil rose from the table, a little pale.