Mr. Wedmore repeated his comment: "Curious, isn't it?" before Max could reply. At last he nodded, and handed back the paper to his father. Then he turned his chair toward the fire, and stared at the blazing coals. He had lost his appetite; he felt cold, miserable.
His father could not help noticing that something was wrong with him; and, after watching him furtively for a few minutes, he said, with an abruptness which made Max start:
"Did you see anything of Dudley when you were in town?"
Max changed color, and glanced apprehensively at his father, as if fearing some suspicion in the unexpected question.
"No, sir," he answered, after a moment's hesitation. "I called at his chambers; but they told me he had gone away for the holidays and had left no address. All letters were to be kept for him till his return."
Both question and answer had been uttered very softly, but Max saw, by the look on Doreen's face, as she glanced over from the other side of the table, that she guessed what they were talking about, if she had not heard their words.
"Aren't you going to have any breakfast, Max?" asked she, as she came round to him. "We've kept everything about for you, and we want the table."
"Well, you can have it," said he, jumping up, quickly, and making for the door. "I don't want any breakfast this morning."
"Nonsense. You will not be allowed to leave the room until you have had some," retorted his sister, as she sprang at him and attempted to pinion his arms. "We allow no ill-temper on Christmas Eve, especially as we've got a surprise for you—a beautiful, real surprise. Guess who is coming this morning to stay till New Year!"
Queenie had come up by this time, and the two girls between them brought their brother back to the table, where the younger sister began to pour out his coffee.