I
She opened the front door without knocking, and came straight into my sitting-room.
“’E’s not ’ere,” she said in a manner that left it doubtful whether she made an assertion or asked a question.
“Your son?” I said. I had risen when she came into the room. “No; I haven’t seen him to-day.”
Ellen Mary was staring at me, but it was clear that she neither saw nor heard me. She had a look of intense concentration. One could see that she was calculating, thinking, thinking....
I went over to her and took her by the arm. I gently shook her. “Now, tell me what’s the matter? What has happened?” I asked.
She made an effort to collect herself, loosened her arm from my hold and with an instinctive movement pushed forward the old bonnet, which had slipped to the back of her head.
“’E ’asn’t been in to ’is dinner,” she said hurriedly. “I’ve been on the Common looking for ’im.”
“He may have made a mistake in the time,” I suggested.
She made a movement as though to push me on one side, and turned towards the door. She was calculating again. Her expression said quite plainly, “Could he be there, could he be there?”
“Come, come,” I said, “there is surely no need to be anxious yet.”
She turned on me. “’E never makes a mistake in the time,” she said fiercely, “’e always knows the time to the minute without clock or watch. Why did you leave ’im alone?”
She broke off in her attack upon me and continued: “’E’s never been late before, not a minute, and now it’s a hour after ’is time.”
“He may be at home by now,” I said. She took the hint instantly and started back again with the same stumbling little run.
I picked up my hat and followed her.