“Bring it here to the office,” went on Mr. Keen. “I am going to work here quite late, to-night, and, if I should not be in when you get here, leave the answer on my desk, for I may be out to supper.”
“I think I can be back here by eight, or, at the most, nine o’clock,” spoke Tom.
“That will do very nicely. I expect to be up until nearly midnight, getting the papers in shape for the trial to-morrow. You had better start now, as it is quite a ride out there.”
With a bundle of papers in his pocket Tom started off. He had sent word to his mother, by telephoning to a drug store near his house, that he would not be home until late.
Tom rather enjoyed the trolley ride, for it was in a section he had seldom visited.
“I hope I find a restaurant out here,” he remarked to himself as the trolley rumbled along. “I’ll be mighty hungry by the time I get back.”
When he reached the house of the gentleman he had been sent to see, he delivered the papers, and asked:
“How long do you think it will be before you have the answer ready?”
“Why? Do you have to go somewhere else in this neighborhood?” asked the client.
“I would like to go to a restaurant,” replied Tom. “Is there one near here?”