“I’ll try,” said Frank briefly.
“Fred Landon was right last night in putting matters off till this morning, so that we could all have a good night’s rest.”
Frank looked quickly up at his brother’s old school-fellow with something like envy, as he sat there softly stroking the great, dark brown beard, which flowed pretty well all over the breast of the heavy blue dressing-gown, tied with thick silk cords about his waist, and thought what a fine-looking specimen of humanity he was; while the doctor at the same time scanned the rather thin, anxious face before him and mused to himself—
“Poor Frank! the boy looks pulled down and careworn, and this has completely upset him. I must take him in hand a bit. He has been working too hard, too, over his chemistry.”
Just then their eyes met, and Frank coloured a little, as if self-conscious.
“I was afraid Landon would be here first,” he said hurriedly, “and that you would both be waiting for me.”
“You ought to have known him better,” said the doctor, laughing. “Fred Landon never is first at any meeting. I always allow him an hour’s latitude.”
“Oh, surely he will not be late this morning?” cried Frank anxiously.
“I hope not; but he may be. Of course he meant to be punctual, and I have no doubt he got up and breakfasted extra early; but anything takes off his attention—a book, a drawing, a note about Egypt—and he forgets everything else. You should have called in the Temple this morning and brought him on.”
“Of course! I didn’t think of that. Here, I’ll go and fetch him at once.”