“Hello, Griffin,” he observed. “How are you? You’re quite a stranger. Had sickness over at your house, I hear. Esther told me.”
“Yes, sir. My grandfather has been under the weather. He is much better now.”
Townsend did not say he was glad to hear it. He said nothing and, picking up his newspaper, proceeded to read. Bob accepted Esther’s invitation to be seated and he and she exchanged casual comments on unimportant subjects. Bob was impatiently awaiting her uncle’s leaving them alone together. He had always done this heretofore; now, however, he remained. A moment later he dropped his paper and spoke.
“Esther says you have had to put off your trip to the other side for a week or so,” he said. “When are you going?”
Bob hesitated. Esther was regarding him intently and he was aware of her scrutiny.
“I—well, I don’t exactly know, Captain Townsend,” he replied.
“Humph! I see. That doesn’t mean you aren’t going at all, does it?”
“No, sir. No, I don’t know that it does. I haven’t made up my mind just what I shall do.”
“Humph! Good deal of a disappointment this having to put it off must have been to you, I should imagine. I judged from what you said to me, and what Esther says you said to her, that going over there to learn to paint is the one thing you’ve wanted to do all your life.”
“Yes, sir. Why—why, yes, it is.”