He went out with the note in his hand to telephone his acceptance to the telegraph office. When he had shut himself in with the telephone she laughed; a light, mirthless laugh.
CHAPTER XVII
MRS. CRAIGHILL BIDES AT HOME
WAYNE and Dick Wingfield breakfasted at the Club on the morning of their return. Notwithstanding Colonel Craighill’s skepticism as to the purpose of their excursion, they had really been to Philadelphia to a Mask and Wig entertainment of University men. Wingfield had watched with interest Wayne’s prolonged abstinence and wondered whether it could be possible that his friend had really reformed. Wingfield, himself most abstemious, had been careful not to place temptation in his friend’s way; and he had taken Wayne to Philadelphia the better to keep track of him at a time when, he knew by experience, Wayne was likely to make one of his mad plunges.
They discussed the morning news as they ate.
“I note that your father has shot a broadside into the administration up at Boston. Here are a few yards of the speech.”
“Humph!” grunted Wayne.
“Very likely you enjoyed private rehearsal of the oration, so it isn’t new to you.”
“You flatter me. Father’s speeches are not a subject of family counsel.”
“I suppose Mrs. Craighill will be a great help to your father in his public life.”
“It’s possible,” remarked Wayne, buttering his toast. “She’s getting her first taste of reform now and will, no doubt, go in strong for such things when she gets back.”