"Thank you, yes, sir," replied Gerald. "He would not let me go to the camp at first, for fear I should catch something besides fish."
"I believe you are his only son?" asked Mr. Hilliard, looking into Gerald's face, with a fine cordiality.
"I am his only son," answered Gerald, who already considered Mr. Hilliard a very agreeable man—such a rich, strong voice, and such flashing black eyes. "And he is my only father, sir," he added, laughing.
Mr. Hilliard joined in it, "have often heard of him in the city," he continued; "in fact, I have seen him occasionally. And now, Mr. Touchtone, about these traveling arrangements. Do I understand that you want to leave the city for Halifax by to-morrow's steamer?"
Philip came out of a brown study. He had been thinking, for one thing, how different Mr. Hilliard was from what he had (quite without warrant) supposed he would be.
"O, certainly," he replied. "You see, Mr. Saxton expects Gerald by Friday night, and I am taking charge of him—eh, Gerald?—until Mr. Saxton sends to the Waverly Hotel.
