“Are you an orphan?”
“No; I have a father living.”
“Ah! I understand. He is poor.”
“No,” answered Victor, shaking his head. “He is not poor. He is quite rich.”
“Then how does it happen that you do not write to him and ask him to help you?”
“Because he is angry with me. He is a stern man, and I offended him very much some time since,” and Victor flushed as he made the confession.
“How did you offend him? You could not have done anything very bad, I am sure.”
“He had placed me at a boarding-school and I ran away. I was very foolish, and I have repented it more than once, but he is very angry with me and won’t forgive me.”
The story seemed familiar to Gerald. Surely he had heard it before.
“Tell me,” he asked abruptly, “are you the son of Bradley Wentworth of Seneca, Illinois?”