"
"Papa," said Phil, in the pause that followed, hiding his face on his
father's shoulder and speaking with a tremble in his voice, "I'm
mighty sorry I did so many bad things to-day: broke the music-box, and
ran away with Elsie, and mortified the family name, begging on the
streets. That's what Aunt Patricia told Mrs. Driggs. I never want to
run away again as long as I live. Oh, if you'll only forgive me and
let me stay, I'd rather be your little boy than anybody else's in the
whole world!"
The doctor gathered him closer in his arms and kissed him. "Do you
think that anything in the whole world could make me give you up, my
little Philip?" he said. "You have been a great worry to me sometimes,
but you are one of my very greatest blessings, and I love you--oh, my
child, you will never know how much!"
A great, happy "bear-hug" almost choked him, as Phil's arms were
clasped about his neck. Then he said, "I think we understand each
other all the way around, now. Shut your eyes, little man, and I'll
rock you to sleep."
Phil snuggled down against him like a little bird in a warm nest, and
there they sat in the firelight together. The old rocking-chair threw
a giant shadow on the wall as it swung slowly back and forth, back and
forth. "_Creakity-creak_," droned the rockers. "_Creakity-creak_,
_squeakity-squeak_," and to the music of their drowsy song Phil fell
fast asleep in his father's arms.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81