"It doesn't matter how I look, does it?" She straightened the clothes a little and shook out his pillows. "Can I get you something, sir? I'm sorry you had to wait."
"It doesn't matter. But I woke up, and thought of Julian—I was afraid he would go away.... I told you to have him wait, you know; and it's after three—he ought to be here by this time." His tone was petulant.
"I'll see if he is here," she replied.
But the door of the sitting-room had opened and they caught a glimpse of the young man crossing the room.
"There he is!" said his father with satisfaction. "Now, don't you go—I may need you."
The boy came and stood in the doorway. "Hallo, Father! How do you do, Miss Canfield." He bowed to her.
"Come in, Julian," said Medfield impatiently. "I missed you this morning. How did you find things at the office?"
"All right, I guess." The young man crossed the room slowly. "I shouldn't know if they weren't right.... I know as much about the business as"—he looked about him and smiled—"as that brass knob over there!" He nodded to it.
His father smiled contentedly. "You'll learn." Then he looked at him quickly. "You like it, don't you?"