The boys hardly thought they had deserved so much, but when a mother has come so very near losing her only daughter, she has a right to express her feelings in any way she chooses.
Perhaps, if Sibyl had been consulted, she might have remarked that Val came in for an even share with Bar, when the latter was clearly entitled to a majority.
The thought of rectifying the matter did not enter her head, doubtless, but she felt all the more kindly disposed towards her handsome and somewhat mysterious young preserver.
The next day was Sunday, and the only telegraph office of Ogleport was not open, except for an hour or so in the morning, like the post-office.
The churches were, however, and they were all full, especially the one in which Mrs. Wood had her pew, and many were the curious glances directed at her array of remarkable “boarders.”
Even the members of the Dorcas Society were compelled to admit that Mrs. Brayton and her daughter were “nice,” while it was well for her son and his two young pupils that their vanity was spared the golden opinions heaped upon their manly heads.
Very early on Monday, however, there were two telegrams brought by the “messenger” to the house of Mrs. Wood. One was for George Brayton. He, however, had no knowledge of the other.
It found him very busy over a letter that he had taken from that morning’s mail, and which was signed “Ashbel Norton.”
The letter and the telegram were both read to his mother and sister, and the former said:
“Well, George, this is as good a place as any. We will wait here till you return.”