“Didn’t you tell him that Mr. Evans would call? Why, Cricket!”
“Oh, mamma, what shall I do? I forgot all about it.”
Mr. Evans looked extremely annoyed. He was an irritable man, with small patience for any one’s short-comings. Now, he certainly had good reason to be vexed. His business was important, and he had to catch a late train for New York, and had but little time to spare.
“Well, well, then,” he said, shortly, “perhaps you can tell me where he is gone, if you did forget the message?”
Cricket grew frightened. “I think—I can’t just remember,” she faltered.
“Haven’t you any idea?” asked mamma. “He must have mentioned some place when he was going;” for it was papa’s rule always to leave word when he went out.
“It seems to me—yes, I know,” cried Cricket, brightening up. “He said he was going to the Bruces,” with a faint echo of the name that papa had spoken lingering in her ear. Unfortunately, the Bruces lived at the other end of town, and the Brewsters in the next square.
“I shall have to risk finding him there, then,” said Mr. Evans, looking at his watch. “No! I have not time. Really this is a most unfortunate matter,” and Mr. Evans put back his watch, looking like a thunder-cloud. Having taken the precaution to notify Dr. Ward that it was necessary to see him that night on important business, it was certainly more than vexatious to find him out. Mrs. Ward was greatly distressed.
“I will send Donald instantly to the Bruces,” she said. “Perhaps then my husband can catch you at the station before you leave, if he has not time to go to your house.” And with this Mr. Evans departed.
Mamma dragged Donald from his studies, and sent him post-haste across the city. Then she came back to Cricket.