“You have the letter, mother?” asked Philip.
Mrs. Barrimore produced it.
“Give it to the Colonel,” Philip said. “It is from Arbuthnot, and there is a line from me.”
Colonel Lane opened the letter in which lay confirmation of the amazing story he had just heard.
“Mother, I am so tired,” said Philip.
“And starving, my own boy!” answered Mrs. Barrimore. “You must have a meal instantly.”
The meal was ordered, and the mother sat between her dear friend and her son, looking from one to the other with shining eyes.
“I feel like ‘Mr. Wegg,’” remarked Uncle Robert, “and inclined to drop into poetry.”
But no one listened.