By that time Mr. Wesden had found a customer for his business, which was to change hands early in February; and in February what would become of him, and whither should he go himself, thought Mr. Hinchford? Good gracious! he would have to change his residence, and his son perhaps never be able to find him! A horrid thought, which only lasted till he thought of his son's business address, but whilst it lasted, a trying one.
When the birthday of Sidney Hinchford came round in January, the father grew excited; talked of his son at business all day, and worried the clerks about his son's accomplishments; returned in the evening to harass Mr. Wesden, always at his post behind the counter, for the few more days remaining of his business life.
"I have brought a bottle of wine home with me in the hope of the lad's return," said Mr. Hinchford, placing that luxury on the counter; "his one and twentieth year must not pass without our wishing bon voyage to his manhood. You and I, Mr. Wesden, will at least drink his health to-night."
"Very well."
"I'll come and keep you company, after tea, in the back parlour, Wesden, and we'll have a long talk about my boy and your girl. There should have been a formal betrothal to-night, with much rejoicing afterwards. To think of his being one-and-twenty to-day, and away from us!"
"It must seem odd to you. Perhaps he'll come back to-night."
"That's what I have been thinking, Wesden. I fancy if he were near his return journey he would make a push for it to-night, knowing the old father's wishes. I fancy, do you know, that if I had been your daughter——"
"Well—what of her?"
"If I had been Harriet, I should have remembered this day, and looked in for a few moments."
"Her mother don't grow stronger; she is fidgety when she is away, and the servant we have is not of much use."