“Who by?”
“Markham.”
“Oh, then, he’s doing some other errand first,” said Darry. “Sit down, if you’re going to wait for him.”
“No, I’ll watch them doing things,” answered Frank, with an assumed lightness of tone.
He strolled about the neat little office, pretending to be interested. It was a dead failure. A lump of lead seemed bearing him down. Frank glanced at his watch. An hour had passed since he had sent Markham on his errand.
“Be back soon, Darry,” he said, and went out of the printing office with a dull, sick feeling at heart.
Frank returned to his office. Markham was not there. He went back to the print shop.
“Markham been here yet?” he inquired in a failing voice to Darry.
“Not yet, Frank.”