"Which? The one with the check for three thousand?"
"The one telling you I was--here."
The boy shook his head. "I got Ballantine's cable, and took the next
boat."
"I didn't know Ballantine cabled," said Medfield thoughtfully.
"It came ten days ago--the thirtieth, wasn't it--just as I was starting
for Norway. I'm pretty glad it didn't miss me!"--They sat quiet a
minute. Then the boy looked at him. "You're looking fine, sir!"
"I'm all right! Doing splendidly!"
He felt suddenly that he could let his pains go. The house across the
town was not so empty, after all. He had a sudden vision of Julian
running up the long stairs--two at a time--and he looked at him happily.
The boy leaned forward. His eye fell on the black-edged card; he looked
at it and smiled and half reached out a hand, incredulous.
"How is--" He hesitated. He had always been afraid of his father. But
the man on the pillows was, somehow, a different sort of father; he
leaned forward with a swift twinkle at the card.
"How is the--widow?" he asked.
"Very well, I suppose," said Medfield. "It is some time since I saw
her." He spoke a little formally. But his heart leaped at the touch of
comradeship.
"How about this?" said Julian. He touched the black-edged card.
Herman Medfield's face flushed--almost guiltily. "Flowers," he said.
"I say!" The boy whistled softly. Then he laughed. "I say!" He put down
the card and looked at it.
"Three boxes!" acknowledged Medfield.