“Jasper,” said his friend, as the tall, stately figure passed rapidly out down the long salesroom, “don’t be troubled,” glancing into Jasper’s overcast face; “it is better as it is. Let him think it out by himself. And believe me, my boy, the greatest kindness one can do your father, is to prevent him from being untrue to himself.”
“I know it,” said Jasper; “but, O Mr. Marlowe! you do know, because you’ve seen it, how he just worships Phronsie. We all do for that matter; but father—well, that’s different. She’s just everything to him.”
“And that’s just the very reason he wants to show her that he is worthy of it,” said the publisher gravely; “and no one must point it out to him. He must travel that way alone, till he can think only of her good. And he’ll do it.”
CHAPTER XVII.
ALEXIA HAS GRACE TO HERSELF.
“WELL, if I’m not glad to get you here!” cried Alexia that same morning, dragging Grace into the front doorway of “The Pumpkin.” “Now you shall make me such a visit! Dear me, won’t we have good times together,” making all sorts of wild plans in her mind on the spot, to atone for any former coldness.
“I can’t stay but two days,” cried Grace in alarm. “I’m to go back to ‘The Oaks’ then.”
“Nonsense! Why, it would take you two days to see that blessed child alone. You’ve no idea how he’s grown this last week,” said Alexia.
“Hadn’t I better see him now?” asked Grace, feeling it unsafe to put off such a wonderful sight any longer.
“That you had!” exclaimed Alexia, delighted at such enthusiasm. “Come right up into the nursery this very minute, Grace.”
So the two ran up the winding stairs into the tiny box of a room called the nursery. There on the floor, sprawling after a red rubber ball, was Algernon. His mother seized him, and covered his round red face with kisses. “The blessed, precious baby!” she cried.