Phil raised his hat and went forward to her. She smiled, and was about to address him when she stopped up. Her eyes grew wide and her face blanched. For almost a minute she stood staring at him, then she almost tottered to him. She put her hand on his sleeve, and her fingers ran loosely along his arm, as she still held his eyes with hers.
Her voice came at last, broken and in the faintest of whispers:––
“Philly,––oh, Philly! It is you! Don’t you know me? Sister Margery!” Her voice rose. She threw her arms around his neck and cried:––“I’ve found you! Phil,––Phil,––my own, dear brother, Phil! Oh,––I’ve found you!”
And Phil, with a heart too full to speak, and a mind too astonished to grasp the situation thoroughly, held her to him as tears ran down his cheeks and on to her hair.
At last he led her into his own room, until both of them should regain their composure.
Years and years rolled back in these last few minutes.
She and Phil were happy little playmates together again.
“Oh, brother!” she said at last, “don’t tell me any more. I can’t hold it. Daddy is here. Let’s wait for him. Poor old daddy! he’s been starving for you, Philly, and heart-broken because he could not get news of you anywhere. He felt sure Graham Brenchfield 387 would know,––and we have just heard of the dreadful things that he did. Daddy was afraid–––”
She picked up the telephone, rang up the hotel and got into communication with her parents.
“Oh, daddy!––come down the Main Street to number one hundred and fifty-six. Come quick! Big, big news, daddy! Run all the way! Bring mother!”