If Jo were only with him! The boy must be forty by now. He had wasted
fourteen years out of the life of his only son. And Jo was no longer
a social pariah. He was married. Old Jolyon had been unable to refrain
from marking his appreciation of the action by enclosing his son a
cheque for L500. The cheque had been returned in a letter from the
'Hotch Potch,' couched in these words.
'MY DEAREST FATHER,
'Your generous gift was welcome as a sign that you might think worse of
me. I return it, but should you think fit to invest it for the benefit
of the little chap (we call him Jolly), who bears our Christian and, by
courtesy, our surname, I shall be very glad.
'I hope with all my heart that your health is as good as ever.
'Your loving son,
'Jo.'
The letter was like the boy. He had always been an amiable chap. Old
Jolyon had sent this reply:
'MY DEAR JO,
'The sum (L500) stands in my books for the benefit of your boy, under
the name of Jolyon Forsyte, and will be duly-credited with interest at
5 per cent. I hope that you are doing well. My health remains good at
present.
'With love, I am,
'Your affectionate Father,
'JOLYON FORSYTE.'
And every year on the 1st of January he had added a hundred and the
interest.
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