Contrary to his usual custom, Philip spent the evening at home; and, as he must have something to occupy him, he spent it in reading. Usually, he cared very little for reading, and was prone to spend the evening out.
Mrs. Ross regarded her son with approval, as she saw him steadily reading all the evening.
“I do believe you’re getting studious, Phil,” she said.
“I’m interested in a story,” remarked Phil.
“How much better it is to spend the evening at home reading than to be gadding about?” said his mother.
“Well, you know a boy can’t be always reading,” observed Philip.
If Mrs. Ross had been a close observer, she might have noticed that Philip got over wonderfully few pages. Indeed, he sometimes held the book open at the same place for half an hour together. The fact was that Philip cared very little for reading, unless he could get hold of some highly sensational story about highwaymen or pirates. He simply used the book as a cover.
The Colonel, his father, was sitting in a room which he called his office, opening out of the family sitting-room, and Philip had seated himself so that he could look into that room, and watch what his father was doing.
Near his desk, Colonel Ross kept a small, iron-bound trunk, which he used as a sort of safe, or a repository for valuable papers, and sometimes for bonds and securities. It was imprudent, for anyone might readily have carried it off; but the Colonel didn’t think of this, or, at any rate, didn’t feel inclined to go to the expense of a safe. Indeed, most of his bonds and securities were deposited in the strong room of the county bank, and, therefore, his imprudence was less.
Philip’s eager attention was roused when he saw his father rise from his desk, take up the trunk and open it, as it lay on the desk where he placed it.