“But I don’t like to return home without an effort to recover Victor.”
“Listen to me, Mr. Wentworth. How old is your son?”
“Seventeen.”
“Then he ought to be able to look out for himself in a measure. I predict that it won’t be long before you hear from him.”
“What leads you to think so?”
“Victor left school with only fifty dollars in his pocket. That sum won’t last long. His companion no doubt had more, for his guardian foolishly supplied him with money very liberally. But, at any rate, it won’t be long before the two boys will be at the end of their resources. Then the natural thing will be for each to write for money to get home. When you receive your son’s letter you will, of course, learn where he is, and can seek him out and take him home.”
“Your advice is most judicious, Dr. McIntire,” said Mr. Wentworth brightening up. “I shall adopt it. I shan’t be sorry if the young scapegrace gets into trouble and suffers for his folly.”
“I hope, Mr. Wentworth, you don’t blame me in the matter.”
“No, Dr. McIntire, I blame no one but the boy himself. Your suggestions have entirely changed my intentions. I did propose to advertise a reward to any one who would send me information of the missing boy, but now I shall do nothing of the kind. I will trust to time and the want of money to restore Victor to his senses.”
Mr. Wentworth settled all Victor’s debts in Ilium, and when his task was finished returned to Seneca.