Carey came down whistling, and twinkling with good humor; and she hadn’t the heart to give him the reprimand he richly deserved. She smiled a good morning, and he went at the kitchen range with a good will.
They had an early lunch and breakfast together, and Carey went to work at his stonework once more.
It was a trifle after two o’clock when Brand Barlock arrived on the scene.
Carey was down cellar picking up the last stones and poking them through the opening he had cut in the parlor floor. He was making such a racket that he did not hear the insistent honk! honk! of the horn. But Cornelia polishing off the front window where some of the wet paper of the day before had stuck, did hear; and she looked out at the expensive car with a sinking heart. That must be Brand Barlock! But surely, surely Carey wouldn’t go off now in the midst of his work, when he was so anxious to finish!
After several almost insolent honks of the horn, and imperious looks houseward, a boy in the back seat got out, received some brief instruction from the handsome youth who was the driver, and came and knocked at the door. Cornelia stepped into the hall, and opened the door.
“Kay here?” asked the boy. “Oh!” Seeing Cornelia, he dragged off his cap perfunctorily.
The boy had a pleasant face, though weak; and Cornelia smiled. If this was one of Carey’s friends, she would know him sometime, and she must make a good impression upon him. She wanted the boys to come and see Carey rather than to always be carrying him off.
“Why, yes, he’s here,” said Cornelia. “But he’s awfully busy. We’re getting settled, you know. Could I give him a message?”
“Why, oh, yes! Tell him Brand Barlock wants him. Tell him he wants him right away quick, please. Brand’s in an awful hurry.”
If he had said, “The President of the United States is here, and wants to see Carey,” he could not have given the order more loftily.