What was it about, mother?"
"Well, my boy, it contains a pleasant piece of news. Mr. Penfold, that
is the name of the writer, was a friend of my family. He knew me long
ago when we were young people, and at one time it seemed likely that
we should be married. However, as you know, that never took place.
However, it seems, as he says by his letter, that he has never
altogether forgotten me, and he intends to help you on in life if you
turn out as he would like to see you. He wishes you to go down to stay
with him when your holidays begin."
"That sounds nice," Ralph said; "and if he has got any boys about my
own age it will be pleasant."
"He has no children, Ralph. He is what you may call an old bachelor,
and lives with his sisters--or, rather, they live with him."
"That does not sound very cheerful, mother. An old gentleman with two
old ladies alone in the house can't make much fun."
"He is not an old gentleman, Ralph," Mrs. Conway said almost angrily.
"I told you we were young people together. Still it may not be very
lively for you, but you must put up with that. He evidently means to
be very kind to you, and it will be of great advantage to you going
down to stay with him."
"But what are you going to do with yourself, mother, all alone here? I
think he might have asked you as well as me.
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