CHAPTER XXII
Roy and His Father
WHEN, in four or five days, the grief in the household had subsided sufficiently to lose some of its poignancy, Mr. Henning called his son to his study for the purpose of having a long talk with him concerning his prospects and the affairs at St. Cuthbert's. He was still under the impression that the extraordinary test to which he had submitted his son was a wise one.
The two sat opposite each other in large, leather-covered reading-chairs in a very wealthy man's private “den.” Roy waited respectfully for his father to begin. Full of the thoughts of Ethel, he began to speak of his recent loss.
“So the poor child is gone, gone! I never thought she would last very long; she was too frail and delicate. If she had grown up I am sure she would have become a nun. Ah, that reminds me! Do you still hold to the notion you mentioned to me last summer?”
“Of the priesthood? Most assuredly, sir.”
“Humph,”
The white whiskers looked whiter as the florid face became more florid.
“H—um! So! I thought then that it was a mere passing fancy of yours, and that it would soon go. As you have asked for no more money than the small—yes, very small—allowance I settled on, I began to think—yes, I began to believe, that you had more of the Henning family spirit—yes, more of