Mrs. Homer shook her head. “I am afraid not, but you can ask him. Julia will be greatly disappointed, but you know Justus is nothing if not conscientious and if he has made up his mind he ought not to go, nothing will alter his decision.”
“What time is his meeting?” asked Mrs. Conway.
“At half past two, I believe.”
“Oh, dear, then I am afraid it will be difficult for him to get to us, or rather to get away. We are to have dinner at two rather than in the evening, partly on account of the children and partly on account of the maids, to whom I have promised the time after they have finished the necessary work. There is a train at two-forty-five, but that would be too late, and it takes nearly an hour by the trolley cars.”
“Then I am afraid he will have to dine alone,” said Mrs. Horner, “I don’t suppose he has ever done such a thing in his life as that, but it cannot be helped. Julia has few opportunities of seeing her family and he insists that I must not think of disappointing her on his account.”
Edna listened very soberly to all this, and when it was learned later that nothing could alter Uncle Justus’s decision, she felt very sorry for him. She took occasion to open up the subject herself that afternoon. “Uncle Justus,” she asked, “did you ever eat Thanksgiving dinner alone?”
Uncle Justus looked at her over his spectacles. “Well, no, I cannot say that I ever did.”
“Shall you like to do it?”
“No, I do not believe I shall particularly enjoy it, but duty must come before pleasure, you know.”
“I wish you were going to have dinner with us.”