“Yes,” sighed the widow.  “It is a great loss to us.”

“I suppose Jonas is a large boy now,” said the other.  “I haven’t seen him for two or three years.”

“Yes, he has grown,” said the widow briefly.  She hoped that Mr. Pearson would not discover that Jonas was with her, as she feared that the boy might betray them unconsciously.

“Is he with you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you stay long in Philadelphia?”

“No, I think not,” answered Mrs. Brent.

“I go back to New York this afternoon, or I would ask permission to call on you.”

Mrs. Brent breathed more freely.  A call at the hotel was by all means to be avoided.

“Of course I should have been glad to see you,” she answered, feeling quite safe in saying so.  “Are you going far?”

“I get out at Thirteenth Street.”

“Thank Heaven!” said Mrs. Brent to herself.  “Then he won’t discover where we are.”

The Continental Hotel is situated at the corner of Chestnut and Ninth Streets, and Mrs. Brent feared that Jonas would stop the car at that point.  As it was, the boy did not observe that his mother had met an acquaintance, so intent was he on watching the street sights.

When they reached Ninth Street mother and son got out and entered the hotel.

“I guess I’ll stay down stairs awhile,” said Jonas.

“No, Philip, I have something to say to you.  Come up with me.”

“I want to go into the billiard-room,” said Jonas, grumbling.

“It is very important,” said Mrs. Brent emphatically.

Now the curiosity of Jonas was excited, and he followed his mother into the elevator, for their rooms were on the third floor.

“Well, mother, what is it?” asked Jonas, when the door of his mother’s room was closed behind them.

“I met a gentleman who knew me in the horse-car,” said Mrs. Brent abruptly.

“Did you?  Who was it?”

“Mr. Pearson.”

“He used to give me candy.  Why didn’t you call me?”

“It is important that we should not be recognized,” said his mother.  “While we stay here we must be exceedingly prudent.  Suppose he had called upon us at the hotel and fallen in with Mr. Granville.  He might have told him that you are my son, and that your name is Jonas, not Philip.”

“Then the fat would be in the fire!” said Jonas.

“Exactly so; I am glad you see the danger.  Now I want you to stay here, or in your own room, for the next two or three hours.”

“It’ll be awfully tiresome,” grumbled Jonas.

“It is necessary,” said his mother firmly.  “Mr. Pearson leaves for New York by an afternoon train.  It is now only two o’clock.  He left the car at Thirteenth Street, and might easily call at this hotel.  It is a general rendezvous for visitors to the city.  If he should meet you down stairs, he would probably know you, and his curiosity would be aroused.  He asked me where I was staying, but I didn’t appear to hear the question.”