“Well, then, I suppose everything is going on all right,” said Helen, “except the money, of course, and I’m sure there will be no trouble about that. Your uncle will remember that he didn’t leave you enough, and will send you some, if he doesn’t intend to come back soon.”
“I don’t know about that,” said Phil; “but everything else isn’t all right. I would like you all to hear a letter I got this morning, and then to tell me whether you think that it is all right or not. I suppose Chap has told you, Helen, about that Touron fellow that was here?”
“I believe Chap has told me everything that has happened here, and everything he knew about everything, and I hope he hasn’t told me more than he ought to.”
“Not if he didn’t draw too much on his imagination,” said Phil. “I knew he always told you everything, and I don’t mind a bit your knowing what is going on here. Now just listen, all of you, to this letter from Mr. Welford.”
Helen Webster, who had a very practical and business-like side to her character, sat straight up in the wicker chair which Phil had brought out on the porch for her, and prepared to give her earnest attention to all the details of Mr. Welford’s communication.
Chap stood up straight, with his hands in his pockets and a cloud on his brow. He had always had his doubts of that Welford, and was prepared to criticise whatever he might hear. Phœnix, who was a good hand at paying attention, but a poor one to talk, sat on a bench, with his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands, and gazed steadfastly at Phil.
Mr. Welford’s letter read as follows:
“Master Philip Berkeley,—Sir——”
“He begins as stiff as a poker,” said Chap.
“And he stirred me up like a poker, too,” said Phil.