enry, with a
laugh.
"No, I can't imagine what it is," and Dick spoke soberly "But that it's
important I know by the way he acted. Otherwise I'd lend you my horse to
pull that load back with. I'll tell you what I'll do, however. As soon
as I get home I'll send one of the grooms out here with one of the work
horses. They'll think that load is a feather. But now I am in a hurry,
so I must gallop on. It won't do to keep dad waiting, especially when he
laid so much stress on my being home on time."
"Oh, don't trouble about a horse. I guess I can get this--this animal to
go after a while," and Henry laughed; for he was of a happy disposition,
and trouble rolled away from him "like water off a duck's back," as he
used to say.
"But it's no trouble at all," insisted Dick. "You wait here and I'll
send a man back with a horse. You can drive him home to-morrow, or
to-night, if you like."
"All right. It's very kind of you," said Henry, but Dick did not stay to
listen to the thanks before he had called to Rex, under whose flying
feet the dust of the road arose in a cloud.
"He must be in a hurry to ride like that," thought Henry, as he tried to
lead on his apology for a horse. "I wonder what it is that his father is
going to tell him? It must be about money I guess, for Mr. Hamilton has
so much he doesn't know what to do with all of it."
Dick was also wondering, as he galloped along, what the important matter
might be that his parent was to speak to him about. He only had a hint
of it in what Mr. Hamilton had said that morning.
"This is your birthday," Dick's father had remarked, when he and his son
were at breakfast in the Hamilton mansion. "I wish you many happy
returns, and I will add that I have something very important to say to
you this afternoon--something that may have a great influence on your
future life. I will meet you here in the library at three o'clock, and
communicate to you certain portions of your dear mother's will."
For a moment emotion had overcame Mr. Hamilton, for his wife, of whom he
had been devotedly fond, though dead some years, was ever a living
memory to him. Dick's eyes filled with tears as he recalled the
sweet-faced woman to whom he had lisped "mother," for he was only a
small chap when she died.
"So, if you will be here on time, Dick," his father finally went on, "I
will read to you an important document, in accordance with your
mother's final instructions. Now don't be late. I am a
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