Dillon faced him.
"For God's sake, Lawrence, what is it? Are you sick? She said you wouldn't be there——"
"She? Who?"
"The old one—the aunt. Bob was wondering about it, and she says directly, 'No, he won't be here this morning,' so I slipped off. Bob said if you were tired, never mind.
"I say, Lawrence, that's an awfully attractive boy. You can't help liking him. He called me aside, and, 'Look here,' says he, 'Uncle Owen says there's to be no wine packed for you. Now I can't have that, Stebbins, it won't do. It's awfully bully of you to come, and you must have everything you want.' I told him that would be all right and what a fine vacation it was going to be for me——"
Lawrence turned the water into the tub and began to pull at his shoes. Never had he felt so grateful for Stebbins's constant chatter.
"I don't believe I'll come down," he heard himself say. "I have a beastly headache. I didn't get much sleep——"
"Well, for heaven's sake get some, if it makes you look like that! Where'd you go, anyway, after you put Bob to bed?"
Lawrence pulled off his coat.
"Parson's down there, you know. He and uncle seem to be hand in glove. He's pretty well fixed with most of the family, I shouldn't wonder."