“Very well, Philip,” said Mrs. Brent.
A minute later the two stood at the door of Mr. Granville's room. Next they stood in his presence.
Mr. Granville, looking eagerly toward the door, passed over Mrs. Brent, and his glance rested on the boy who followed her. He started, and there was a quick feeling of disappointment. He had been picturing to himself how his lost boy would look, but none of his visions resembled the awkward-looking boy who stood sheepishly by the side of Mrs. Brent.
“Mr. Granville, I presume,” said the lady.
“Yes, madam. You are——”
“Mrs. Brent, and this,” pointing to Jonas, “is the boy you left at Fultonville thirteen years ago. Philip, go to your father.”
Jonas advanced awkwardly to Mr. Granville's chair, and said in parrot-like tones:
“I'm so glad to see you, pa!”
“And you are really Philip?” said Mr. Granville slowly.
“Yes, I'm Philip Brent; but I suppose my name is Granville now.”