He was still using an old one which his father had turned over to
him when he went up to Cambridge. Besides, he had said clothes, not a
portmanteau.
Ernest saw what was passing through his father's mind, and felt that he
ought to have prepared him in some way for what he now saw; but he had
sent his telegram so immediately on receiving his father's letter, and
had followed it so promptly that it would not have been easy to do so
even if he had thought of it. He put out his hand and said laughingly,
"Oh, it's all paid for--I am afraid you do not know that Mr Overton has
handed over to me Aunt Alethea's money."
Theobald flushed scarlet. "But why," he said, and these were the first
words that actually crossed his lips--"if the money was not his to keep,
did he not hand it over to my brother John and me?" He stammered a good
deal and looked sheepish, but he got the words out.
"Because, my dear father," said Ernest still laughing, "my aunt left it
to him in trust for me, not in trust either for you or for my Uncle
John--and it has accumulated till it is now over 70,000 pounds. But tell
me how is my mother?"
"No, Ernest," said Theobald excitedly, "the matter cannot rest here, I
must know that this is all open and above board.
Pages:
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630