"Is it from your father?" asked Gilbert.
"No; it is in the handwriting of my
stepmother. I can guess from that that it
contains no good news."
He opened the letter, and as he read it his
face expressed disgust and annoyance.
"Read it, Gilbert," he said, handing him the
open sheet.
This was the missive:
"CARL CRAWFORD:--AS your father has a
nervous attack, brought on by your misconduct,
he has authorized me to write to you.
As you are but sixteen, he could send for you
and have you forcibly brought back, but deems
it better for you to follow your own course
and suffer the punishment of your obstinate
and perverse conduct. The boy whom you
sent here proved a fitting messenger. He
seems, if possible, to be even worse than
yourself. He was very impertinent to me, and made
a brutal and unprovoked attack on my poor
boy, Peter, whose devotion to your father and
myself forms an agreeable contrast to your
studied disregard of our wishes.
"Your friend had the assurance to ask for
a weekly allowance for you while a voluntary
exile from the home where you have been only
too well treated. In other words, you want
to be paid for your disobedience. Even if your
father were weak enough to think of complying
with this extraordinary request, I should
do my best to dissuade him."
"Small doubt of that!" said Carl, bitterly.
"In my sorrow for your waywardness, I am
comforted by the thought that Peter is too
good and conscientious ever to follow your
example. While you are away, he will do his
utmost to make up to your father for his
disappointment in you.
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