As they rode homeward Phoebe said thoughtfully:
“Who will break the news to Toby?”
Mr. Spaythe and the governor exchanged glances.
“I think that must be your task, Phoebe,” said the latter. “No one has done so much for Toby Clark as you, nor has anyone been so instrumental in establishing his good fortune.”
“I—I don’t think I could do it!” exclaimed Phoebe. “Toby is so proud and sensitive that he—he might make a fuss, and that would break me all up.”
Said Mr. Spaythe, after a moment’s thought:
“I’ll make it easy for you, Phoebe. I’ll give a little dinner party at my house, in Toby’s honor, on Wednesday evening and invite all those friends who have stood by him during his time of need. Then you can make a speech and announce the good news.”
“Just the thing,” commented the governor. “Wednesday. That will give me time to accomplish something I have in mind.”
And so the matter was arranged.
Toby Clark had grown more restless as the day approached when he was to be tried for stealing Mrs. Ritchie’s box. He knew of the recent evidence against him—the finding of the money and bonds in his house—and fully realized that his guilt would appear conclusive to a jury. He was ashamed to go out of the house except for a brief walk after dark and whenever he met Mr. Spaythe or Eric at mealtime he would study their faces for some sign that would indicate hope. They seemed cheerful enough and laughed and talked as if no tragedy was pending; but both father and son refrained from mentioning Toby’s trial in any way. The boy had not seen Phoebe since she had rescued him from the hoodlums; Sam Parsons kept out of sight; Mr. Holbrook, who used to visit him regularly, now remained absent, and so poor Toby imagined himself deserted and neglected by all his friends.