BROTHER BOB.
SO the twins' letter was folded and addressed to their father, and left on the hall table.
The night before, they had packed a few clothes in a black bag taken from the box-room, and, now quite ready for their journey, they went down to breakfast.
Their father did not breakfast with them, but had his meal brought to him upstairs, so they could freely discuss their plans. They were just rising from the table when there came a double knock at the front door, and the parlour-maid took in a telegram and carried it up to Mr. Ellis. The twins went on with their chatter, debating where to leave the letter they had written to their father.
Suddenly Mr. Ellis's bell rang loudly, once, twice, thrice; and before it could be answered, he came out in his dressing-gown on to the stairs.
"Is the boy waiting? Let him take this reply!" he called in a hoarse, strained voice. "And tell Jack to harness the mare at once. I want the dog-cart to take me to the station and catch the next train."
"What can it be?" whispered Gerald. "Something has happened."
But before his sister could answer, their father's voice was heard calling them. Such a strange, broken voice, too—so different from his usual querulous, peevish, high-pitched tones.
They ran up, and he met them, and they saw his face was white and drawn and full of pain.
"Children," said he, "I've had bad news—the worst you can imagine."