“No, sir,” answered Philip; “but I thought he might have said something about it in your note.”
“Not a word,” said Mr. Welford. “And I am very sorry, indeed, that I did not know that he was going away at this time. It might have prevented a good deal of trouble. But there is nothing to be done now but to carry out his instructions. You can draw the money you need in the manner he mentions here, and, of course, you will be as economical as you can in your expenditures. I hope he won’t be gone very long; but, in the mean time, we must get on the best we can.”
He looked at Philip a moment, and then he said,—
“You are a young fellow to have charge of a house and farm, though I suppose your uncle knew what he was about. How did you come to town?”
This question was asked as a sort of finishing remark to the conversation, and the banker picked up some papers which lay on his desk.
“I rode in,” said Philip, “on uncle’s horse.”
Mr. Welford turned suddenly, as if the thought had just struck him.
“Was that you,” he said, “who went tearing up the street a while ago?”
“Yes, sir,” said Philip. “The horse ran away with me.”
“I thought your uncle’s horse was a very gentle beast? At least he always seemed so to me.”