CHAPTER VI.
BONNY’S ORDEAL
“What’s the matter, Roger?” asked his wife, when he went home.
“Nothing,” said the young man, wearily, but he went to bed early, and, rising early the next morning, strode off to the iron works without taking his breakfast.
How he loved the handsome lad, his wife’s double. What could he do, what could he say? Until now he had considered the boy inferior in character to his two sisters. But, as he had often assured himself, the stock was good, and the strength and energy latent in Bonny were now looming to the fore. He was emerging from boyhood into manhood, and his childish, happy-go-lucky disposition of youth was warring with the growing forces of more mature age.
The morning wore on, and his gloominess increased, until his father shortly told him that he didn’t look well, and he had better go home.
“I’m all right,” Roger was saying, almost harshly, when there was a ring at his telephone. The National Bank wanted to speak to him.
“Hello,” said Roger.
“Can you come up to the bank?” asked some one, in a jerky voice. “Have had a robbery—young Gravely hurt.”