"I don't understand," he said; "what does it all mean?"
Right there old Squire put in an appearance.
"Don't you know me, Mars Robert? It's Squire dat useter 'long ter you."
"Yes; I know you. How are you, Squire? But this child, who is she?"
"Your own flesh an' blood, Mars Robert, born'd after you went away an' left Miss July."
Colonel Marsden sank back on the pillow with a groan and covered his eyes with his hands.
"O, Uncle Squire!" cried Roberta, "you have hurt his feelings. But she isn't mad at you, Papa, not a bit. She told me to tell you, that for ten long years the string has been on the outside of the latch for you. She did indeed, Papa."
"She is an angel," said Colonel Marsden. There was moisture in his fine eyes.
"That's what Mam' Sarah says. She says she is afraid every morning that she will find mamma's wings sprouting."
"But why was I not written to? Why was I not told I had a child?" Again a groan escaped him. "My God!" he cried, "I forgot I had no right to expect that. Like a self-willed child I wantonly threw away life's choicest blessings, was unmindful of its most sacred obligations."