The mystified boy showed the telegram to his father.
“Perhaps the first part refers to the robbery. You had better go. Can you bid your mother and aunt farewell and be ready at the depot by 7.30?”
“Yes, quite easily.”
“Very good. The carriage will be ready for you to catch the 7.30 train.”
CHAPTER XXIII
The Great Blow
NOTWITHSTANDING the death of his little sister, Roy left home with a lightened heart, owing to the more perfect and decidedly pleasanter understanding with his father. Had he not full permission to play ball, or do anything else he chose! If the reader thinks this was a small reason for being light-hearted, then it is safe to say that same reader never was a boy. Every real boy knows what that permission meant. Roy, as we know, was conscientious. We know the struggle he went through. We know some of the unpleasant consequences which followed from conscientiously carrying out his father's wishes. Just in proportion as the restriction had been bitter, this freedom now was sweet. He was a strong, healthy, vigorous boy, all his life used to outdoor exercise, delighting in all manly sports. Now he was free again! Free to enjoy it all! The promised delights appeared all the more entrancing from his long abstention from them. Would he not surprise the boys! No, he would give the credit, all of it, to Harry Gill. He would make it appear that the manager's diplomacy had been irresistible. Gill should have an extra feather in his cap!
And Garrett! What a pity he was developing such undesirable traits of character! Could he not be weaned in some way from those companions with whom at present he seemed so infatuated? Roy was convinced that he was not really a bad fellow at