MacFarlane, but--" The boy hesitated and looked away.
"But what?" queried Peter.
"Well--there's Aunt Felicia. You know how particular she is; and
she doesn't know how splendid Mr. Cohen has been, and if he came
to the wedding she might not like it."
"But Felicia is not going to be married, my boy," remarked Peter,
with a dry smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes.
Jack laughed. "Yes--but it's her house."
"Yes--and your wedding. Now go down and ask Mr. Cohen yourself.
You'll send him a card, of course, but do more than that. Call on
him personally and tell you want him to come, and why--and that I
want him, too. That will please him still more. The poor fellow
lives a great deal alone. Whether he will come or not, I don't
know--but ask him. You owe it to yourself as much as you do to
him."
"And you don't think Aunt Felicia will--"
"Hang Felicia! You do what you think is right; it does not matter
what Felicia or anybody else thinks."
Jack wheeled about and strode downstairs and into the back room
where the little man sat at his desk looking over some papers.
Pages:
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608