"Why did you get into my window?" asked Bert. "Why didn't you come to the door?"
"I—didn't know if I would be welcome. I wanted to ask. Do you know how my father feels toward me?"
"No; I have only been here one day. He ought to be glad to see his son."
"I took some money with me when I went away," said Phineas hesitating. "Father's very fond of money."
"Yes," assented Bert.
"And he would find it hard to forget that."
"Why didn't you come back before?"
"I didn't dare to come till I could bring the money. I have got it with me, but not a dollar more. If you want to know what brings me back, look in my face and see for yourself."
The moon came out from behind a cloud, and by its light Bert saw that the young man's face was thin and ghastly.
"I am sick," he said; "irregular hours and whiskey have done their work. I am afraid I have got to pass in my checks."