“No, mother. I—”
“That’s enough, Arthur. This is a matter for your father. It will give him a fine home-coming. You have been a very bad boy.”
[CHAPTER V]
MR. TREVOR’S MYSTERIOUS INVITATION
Mr. Trevor, Art’s father, had been for six weeks attending to legal business in London. For several days his return had been eagerly anticipated. Art’s only hope lay in his father’s jovial disposition, his love of outdoor sports and, above all, his unusual interest in the pleasures of boys. In this respect Mr. Trevor was different from most men. He would leave his office to umpire a game of ball between school nines when he could not find time to witness a professional game.
Through the dinner hour Mrs. Trevor did not speak of the fight. By that Art knew he was approaching a crisis. Up to this time, his mother had never hesitated to discipline him for shortcomings. Each minute his depression deepened. The meal over, he made no attempt to leave the house. When his mother took up the evening paper Art retired to a far corner of the porch with a magazine.
Now and then he would glance at the hall clock. While he looked the third time the deep gong sounded seven. He took a deep breath—only one more hour.
Art had no way of knowing what had befallen his friends. Not a boy had passed the house. If Old Walter had visited all the boys’ homes, Art suspected that more than one domestic tragedy must have been enacted already.
Just as the twilight began to make reading difficult, Art heard a slow and familiar footstep. It was Alex Conyers. But the low-spirited boy on the porch neither looked up nor gave salutation. Alex walked slowly as if burdened with troubles of his own. At the lawn step he looked up, seemed to hesitate, and then passed on.