Harry did not reply. It was only what he expected, from what he knew of Mrs. Ross and her son.
“I hope it won’t be unpleasant for you,” said he, in a tone of sympathy.
“It’s a kind of disappointment,” the old man admitted. “I was hoping Lucindy would be like her mother, and I could have a home with my own folks the rest of my life.”
“Poor man,” thought Harry. “He’s old and destitute, and it must be a trial for him to find himself so coldly received.”
“I wish,” he said, impulsively, “we were richer.”
“Why?” asked Uncle Obed.
“Because we’d offer you a home. But, unfortunately,” continued Harry, with a sigh, “we don’t know how we are to pay our own expenses.”
The old man looked gratified.
“I wish you were my nephew, instead of Philip,” he said. “You’ve got a good mother, I take it.”
“She’s one of the best mothers in the world,” said Harry, earnestly.