“Nothing serious,” Barnes reassured him, “but what I’ve got to tell you may strike you as a bit queer. I haven’t got used to it yet myself.”
Barnes sat down beneath a big pine and Van Patten, watching him uneasily, took a place beside him.
“You see,” began Barnes, “when your letter came a month ago, affairs at the house were in a bad way.”
“Guess I was a bit hasty in that letter,” stammered Van Patten.
“Under the circumstances, you were,” agreed Barnes. “Your father was in bad shape—sort of pining away for you.”
“For me? I didn’t think he cared that much.”
“He cared a great deal,” said Barnes. “So, for that reason, we didn’t show him your letter.”
“You didn’t?” exclaimed Van Patten eagerly.
“We tore it up.”
Van Patten gave a sigh of relief, but the next second he looked curiously at this stranger who evidently had played so important a part in his personal affairs.