'All right, old fellow,' he said brightly. 'Don't come up to me. I'm
incog. till I'm up and dressed. Are you in the same mind?'
'Yes, Father.'
'Then ask Mr. Froggatt to do me the favour of coming to speak to me
any time after eleven o'clock that may suit him. I must understand
what he offers you. The nonsense is conquered, Felix; more shame for
me that it has followed me so far: but the sense remains. I must try
to be sure that this sacrifice of yours is a right one to be
accepted. Any way, my boy, I thank and bless you for it, and God will
bless such a beginning. There's the bell, be off,' he concluded.
And, Papa,' blurted out Felix suddenly, 'would you _please_ be
photographed. I have the money for it. _Pray--_'
Mr. Underwood smiled. 'Very well, Felix; that is, if I am ever
capable of getting up all the stairs to Coleman's sky-parlour.
'Oh, thank you!' and Felix ran away.
Mr. Froggatt came in due time. He was an elderly portly man, well
shaven and smooth-faced, intensely respectable, having been brought
up to inherit an old hereditary business as bookseller, stationer,
and publisher of a weekly local paper, long before Bexley had broken
out into its present burning fever of furnaces.
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