"You need not be so very far down. I would not be down, if I were like you and could do anything," said Frank, with something like a sob in his voice.

"It is precious little I can do, even if I knew what were needed."

"Talk with Mr Caldwell."

"Mr Caldwell! The thought of him gives me a chill; and I don't suppose he would talk with me. He hasn't a very high opinion of me,--in the way of business, or in any way."

"He'd talk with you fast enough, if you would talk reasonably. Try him.

He wants some one to go to Q-- about the timber that has been lying there some weeks now. Papa spoke about it too. It would have paid well, if he had been able to attend to the sale of it himself. But he has not perfect confidence in Donnelly the agent, and the time is pa.s.sing. It must be sold soon, and Mr Caldwell can't be everywhere. I told him to send Davie Inglis, but he must not take him from the bank he thinks; and, besides he is so young and so boyish-looking. You would do quite as well, I dare say. At any rate, you would be better than no one."

Philip looked as though he thought he was being "hit" again, but he said nothing.

"One thing is certain," continued Frank, "if you are going to do any good in our present fix, you can only do it by knuckling down to old Caldwell. n.o.body knows so much about papa's affairs as he does."

Whether Philip "knuckled down" to Mr Caldwell or not, he never told Frank, but he did tell him that he was going in a day or two to Q--, to make arrangements for the sale of timber acc.u.mulated there for ship-building purposes, or for exportation. He did not know much about the matter and did not speak very hopefully. The sting of it was that he might have known if he had done as his father had had a right to expect him to do. However, Mr Caldwell sent him away none the less willingly because of his low spirits.

"You will do better than n.o.body," said he, as Frank had said before.

"You can have an eye on the books and on all the papers. Don't let Donnelly be too much for you."

It would not do to enter into all the particulars of Philip's first business venture. It is enough to say, he was successful in circ.u.mstances where failure would not have been surprising; and the very first time he saw his father after he was a little better, he had the satisfaction of hearing Mr Caldwell telling him of the successful termination of the sale of the timber. He had the greater satisfaction of prompting that slow-spoken gentleman where his memory or his information failed, and of giving all details to his father, who was both relieved and pleased with the turn this affair had taken.

But success in this his first independent attempt at doing business could not avert the troubles that had been long hanging over his father.

If Mr Oswald had been in perfect health, it might have been different.

With time granted to continue his business relations, or even to settle up his own affairs, he might have been able to give every man his own.

But his health came very slowly back, and affairs in the meantime wrought to a crisis. Philip strove hard to obtain time, and pledged himself to the full payment of all his father's liabilities within a limited period. Even Mr Caldwell was influenced by his earnestness and hopefulness, and by the good sense and business ability manifested by him in several transactions with which he had had to do, and joined with him in representing Mr Oswald's affairs to be in such a condition that care and time, and close attention alone were needed to set them right, and to satisfy all just claims at last. But Philip was young and inexperienced, and those of his father's creditors who knew him best, knew nothing in his past life to give them confidence either in his principles or his judgment, and they could not be induced to yield to him in this matter.

So it only remained for Mr Oswald to give up all that he possessed, to satisfy as far as possible all just demands. It was a very bitter experience for him to pa.s.s through, but he was in a state of health too weak and broken fully to realise all that it involved. For the time it was worse for his sons than for him. Frank devoted himself all the more earnestly to his father's care and comfort, and his doing so made this time of trouble more endurable for both. Philip saw little of his father. His place was to act for him wherever he could do so, so as to spare him as much as possible the details of the painful business.

It was a very miserable time to him. He made up his mind to get away as soon as possible to California or British Columbia, or anywhere else, so that it was far enough away. But he did not go. He did far better than that would have been. He staid at home, not very willingly, still he staid, and tried to do his duty as he had never tried before, and there were times when it was not easy to do.

Mr Caldwell, as one in whom the creditors had perfect confidence, both as to his conscientiousness and his knowledge of affairs, was appointed by them to settle up Mr Oswald's business, and with their permission Philip Oswald was requested to act as his a.s.sistant for the time. It was not the thing he would have chosen for himself, but if he had gone away now, it must have been without his father's consent, and if he staid at home it was absolutely necessary that he should earn money for the payment of his own debts. There was nothing better offered for his acceptance, and Mr Caldwell's terms were such as even Philip considered liberal.

"Though I know quite well he would much rather have had Davie Inglis,"

said he to Frank, when it was quite settled that he was to stay. "I don't believe he thinks I shall be much good. However, I must take it and make the best of it."

"You are quite wrong. Davie wouldn't suit him half so well as you in this business, though of course he has perfect confidence in Davie, and you have to be tried yet. But he knows you will make it a point of honour to do your best in the circ.u.mstances."

"If these people in M-- had not been such fools as to force matters on, there might have been some inducement to do one's best in straightening out things. And it would have been better for them and for us too. I wish I were a thousand miles away from it all."

"No, you don't, unless you could take the rest, of us out of it too.

For my part, I think you have a grand opportunity to exercise courage and patience, and to win honour and glory as a true hero. Just you go down and speak to Aunt Mary and Violet about it."

"I think I see myself doing it!" said Philip, as though it were a thing utterly impossible and not to be considered for a moment.

However, before many days were over, he found himself at the bridge house, enjoying Mrs Inglis's kindly sympathy, and the delighted welcome of the children, more than he would have imagined possible. He had seen very little of any of them for a long time, and was ashamed of his defection, conscious as he was of the cause. It was not comfortable for him to talk with Mrs Inglis, or to share in the pursuits and amus.e.m.e.nts of her young people, with the consciousness of wrong-doing upon him.

Wrong-doing according to _their_ standard of right and wrong, he meant, of course. According to _his_ standard, there were many things he could do, and many things he could leave undone, quite innocently, of which they would not approve. Several of such questionable incidents had occurred in his manner of life about the time of their return from Gourlay last year, and he had kept away from them. He had been too busy since his coming back from M-- to see much of any of his friends, and this was his first visit to the bridge house for a long time.

"Why did you not come before?" said little Mary.

"I have been very busy. Are you glad to see me now?"

"Yes, very glad, and so is mamma and all of us. I want to show you something." And the child went on to make confidences about her own personal affairs, into which Mr Philip entered with sufficient interest, as his manner was. He had only time for a word or two with the mother before Jem and David came in.

"Your father is really improving, I am glad to hear," said Mrs Inglis when the children left them.

Philip's face clouded.

"Is he better? It hardly seems to me that he gains at all. He is very much discouraged about himself."

"Frank thinks him better. It is a great relief to him, he says, that you are here."

"I ought never to have gone away," said Philip, sighing.

"But your father wished it, did he not? Perhaps it would have been better had you been here. However, you are here now. Frank says he begun to improve the very day you consented to a.s.sist Mr Caldwell in the settlement of his affairs."

Philip hung his head.

"Don't be hard on me, Aunt Mary."

"Am I hard on you? I am sure I don't know how. That is Frank's idea of the matter."

"Aunt Mary! if you only knew what a good-for-nothing fellow I have been!

I am sure I cannot see why my father should have confidence in me."

"In whom should he have confidence, if not in you?" said Mrs Inglis, smiling.

Philip had nothing to answer. A feeling of shame, painful but wholesome, kept him silent. Even according to his own idea of right, he had been undutiful in his conduct to his father. He had accepted all from him, he had exacted much, and he had given little in return, except the careless respect to his wishes in little things, which he could not have refused to any one in whose house he was a guest. They had been on friendly terms enough, as a general thing, but there had been some pa.s.sages between them which he did not like to remember. That his father should have had any satisfaction in him or his doings, except indeed in the case of the transaction of the timber at Q--, was not a very likely thing. The very supposition went deeper than any reproaches could have gone and filled him with pain and regret.

"Frank is a good fellow, but he does not know everything," said he, dolefully.

"I think he must know about your father, however, he is with him so constantly, and he says he is better. It will be some time before he is able for business again, I am afraid. In the meantime he has perfect confidence in Mr Caldwell and in you, which must be a comfort to him."

Philip shook his head.

"Aunt Mary, the business is no longer his, and what we are doing is for the benefit of others. He has lost everything."

"He has not lost everything, I think," said Mrs Inglis, smiling, "while he has you and Frank and your sisters. He would not say so."

Philip rose and came and stood before her.

"Mrs Inglis, I cannot bear that you should think of me as you do. It makes me feel like a deceiver. I have not been a good son to my father.

I am not like your Davie."

Mrs Inglis smiled as though she would have said, "There are not many like my Davie." But she looked grave in a minute and said--

"There is one thing in which you differ. Davie is an avowed servant of the Lord Jesus Christ. He professes to desire to live no longer to himself, but to Him."

"And you think that is everything, Aunt Mary?"