No. 17," which was the last but three of the packet. This
read:
Reach home at 6:20 P. M. Before entering house read
No. 18. C. W., Jr.
Leaning against one of the big white stone pillars of the porch of his
home, Cyrus wearily tore open No. 18--and the words fairly swam before
his eyes. He had to rub them hard to make sure that he was not mistaken.
Go again to Kingston Heights, corner West and Dwight streets,
reaching there by 6:50. Read No. 19. C. W., Jr.
The boy looked up at the windows, desperately angry at last. If his
pride and his sense of the meaning of that phrase, "My word of honour,"
as the men of the Woodbridge family were in the habit of teaching it to
their sons, had not been both of the strongest sort, he would have
rebelled and gone defiantly and stormily in. As it was, he stood for one
long minute with his hands clenched and his teeth set; then he turned
and walked down the steps, away from the longed-for dinner, and out
toward L Street and the car for Kingston Heights.
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