“Master Will has not been back, sir,” said the servant, when Mr Willows inquired towards evening as to the whereabouts of his son.
“But,” he said to himself, “he was going to fetch that artist. Oh, he will be all right.”
Yet as evening wore on the mill-owner began to feel anxious, and his anxiety caused him to take his hat and stick and walk up to the Vicarage.
“Will?” said the Vicar, “No. Isn’t he at the mill?”
“No—nor Josh.”
“Ah!” said the Vicar. “I have not seen either of them all day.”
“Humph! They ought to be able to take care of themselves by this time. But I shall go on to Drinkwater’s cottage and inquire.”
“I’ll come with you,” said the Vicar, eagerly, and he took his hat off its peg in the square-shaped wainscotted hall. “Our two lads,” he said, as they walked quickly along the road to the cottage, “are so much together that I always feel that when Josh is out he is sure to be at the mill. That is why I never feel particularly surprised when he does not come back to meals.”
“Just so; but they are so ready to be up to mischief that I am beginning to be afraid. Ah! at last,” continued Mr Willows, with a sigh, as they reached the cottage, where lights shone already through the white-curtained windows.
He passed through the nicely kept garden and knocked at the door, which was opened by Mrs Drinkwater, who curtseyed when she saw who her visitors were.