Book Description

Philip started in irrepressible astonishment as these words fell from the lips of his step-mother. Itseemed to him as if the earth were crumbling beneath his feet, for he had felt no more certain of theexistence of the universe than of his being the son of Gerald Brent.He was not the only person amazed at this declaration. Jonas, forgetting for the moment the parthe was playing, sat bolt upright on the sofa, with his large mouth wide open, staring by turns atPhilip and his mother."Gosh!" he exclaimed in a tone indicating utter surprise and bewilderment."Will you repeat that, Mrs. Brent?" asked Philip, after a brief pause, not certain that he had heardaright."I spoke plain English, I believe," said Mrs. Brent coldly, enjoying the effect of hercommunication."I said that Mr. Brent, my late husband, was not your father.""I don't believe you!" burst forth Philip impetuously."You don't wish to believe me, you mean," answered his step-mother, unmoved."No, I don't wish to believe you," said the boy, looking her in the eye."You are very polite to doubt a lady's word," said Mrs. Brent with sarcasm."In such a matter as that I believe no one's word," said Phil. "I ask for proof.""Well, I am prepared to satisfy you. Sit down and I will tell you the story."Philip sat down on the nearest chair and regarded his step-mother fixedly."Whose son am I," he demanded, "if not Mr. Brent's?""You are getting on too fast. Jonas," continued his mother, suddenly turning to her hulking son, on whose not very intelligent countenance there was an expression of greedy curiosity, "do youunderstand that what I am going to say is to be a secret, not to be spoken of to any one?""Yes'm," answered Jonas readily."Very well. Now to proceed. Philip, you have heard probably that when you were very small yourfather-I mean Mr. Brent-lived in a small town in Ohio, called Fultonville?