Uncle Robert, who was never quite so happy as when confronted by somebody’s difficulties which he thought he could remove, carried his sister to his den as soon as luncheon was over to talk about the Hendersons.
“Lane will do all he can, I know,” Uncle Robert began, when he had carefully closed the door. “But you know, Annie, he ought to keep what he has for little Phyll. What do you think of a hamper of game, and a few dozens of good wine for a start off? The country ought to be ashamed of the poor gratitude she shows to the men who have fought for her and suffered for her. No proper provision is made for soldiers at any time. Think of it, Annie! Many a good officer is lost to our Army because he can’t afford the thing. An officer gets about enough to pay his laundry bill, and when he is too old, or when he is no further use to the nation, he can live in—East Dulwich! He can do as he can in genteel poverty. ‘Soldier, rest! thy warfare o’er,’ sings Scott. A nice bed a grateful country gives the soldier to rest on! But talk never did anything. A hamper goes off this afternoon. Come, Annie, my love, help me with your woman’s wit! The hamper must go to Lane, of course.”
Dan had gone off to the room where he worked, which was big and airy and had a north light. The room had been empty until Uncle Robert had it converted into a temporary studio for Dan.
Phyllis, left alone with Philip, remarked: “I suppose Mr. Webster is safe out of the way. I heard Mr. Webster go to the studio—and Mrs. Barrimore and Mr. Burns will be engaged for hours, so we can have our talk.”
“Very well,” answered Philip, yawning. “The sooner it’s over the sooner to rest—and good-bye to Miss Phyll and her moaning!”
“Don’t joke, Philip,” cried Phyllis, with an impatient shrug of her shoulders. “I am serious, I tell you—really I am. I am miserable, and you are very unkind to laugh at me.”
“I won’t laugh. Forge ahead! Look! my face is as long as a fiddle,” said Philip, trying not to smile.
At that same moment Mrs. Barrimore, referring to Colonel Lane’s letter, found a postscript which she had overlooked. It ran:
“I have just read over this letter, and find I have been a little unjust to poor Mrs. Henderson. She really has her hands full with her invalid husband, and the boys are of necessity left a lot to themselves. Then the inadequate maid—the limited income! Some women would have taken to drink or drugs! Mrs. Henderson has only taken to religion! Under happier circumstances I believe she would be very different.”