CHAPTER XLIII.
A WELCOME LETTER.
Alexander Taylor, a Wall Street broker, sat at breakfast in his fine house on Madison Avenue. His daughter, Jennie, about thirteen years old, was the only other person at the table.
“Papa, have you heard nothing of Henry?” asked the little girl anxiously.
“Only that the boy who got started with him on his foolish tramp got back three days since.”
“Is Tom Murray back, then?”
“Yes; he showed himself more sensible than Henry.”
“Oh, I’m afraid something’s happened to him, papa! Why don’t you advertise for him, or send out a detective, or something?”
“I will tell you, Jennie,” said Mr. Taylor, laying down the morning paper. “I want your brother to stay away long enough to see his folly.”
“But perhaps he may get out of money, and not be able to get anything to eat. You wouldn’t want him to starve, papa?”
“There isn’t much chance of it. If he is in danger of that, he will have sense enough to ask for food, or to write to me for help. I rather hope he will have a hard time.”