Aunt Hannah made no reply, but sat down working and listening intently for the expected step, but it did not come, and at last she heaved a sigh.
“Yes, he is late,” said the doctor, looking at his watch. “Not going anywhere else for you, was he?”
“Oh, no, my dear; he was coming straight back.”
“Humph!” ejaculated the doctor; “thoughtless young dog! I want my tea.”
“He can’t be long now,” said Aunt Hannah.
“Humph! Can’t be. That boy’s always wool-gathering instead of thinking of his duties.”
Aunt Hannah’s brow wrinkled and she looked five years older as she rose softly to go to the window, and look out.
“That will not bring him here a bit sooner, Hannah,” said the doctor drily. “I dare say he has gone in at the rectory, and Syme has asked him to stay.”
“Oh, no, my dear, I don’t think he would do that, knowing that we should be waiting.”
“Never did, I suppose,” said the doctor.