May I beg you, if your news should be of an
alarming nature (which God forbid!) to communicate it as gently--"
"My news is this," Mat broke in: "Your son's been hurt in the head, but
he's got over the worst of it now. He lives with me; I like him; and I
mean to take care of him till he gets on his legs again. That's my news
about your son. But that's not all I've got to say. I bring you news of
somebody else."
"Will you take a seat, and be good enough to explain yourself?"
They sat down at opposite sides of the table, with the Testimonial and
the Address lying between them. The shower outside was beginning to
fall at its heaviest. The splashing noise of the rain and the sound of
running footsteps, as the few foot passengers in the square made for
shelter at the top of their speed, penetrated into the room during the
pause of silence which ensued after they had taken their seats. Mr.
Thorpe spoke first.
"May I inquire your name?" he said, in his lowest and calmest tones.
Mat did not seem to hear the question. He took up the Address from the
table, looked at the list of signatures, and turned to Mr. Thorpe.
"I've been hearing about this," he said. "Are all them names there, the
names of friends of yours?"
Mr.
Pages:
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651