“Yes, he has just got into the car behind us.”
“I wonder if he is going to leave Wayneboro for good?”
“Probably he is only going to Boston for the day, perhaps to buy goods.”
Herbert thought it doubtful whether Ebenezer Graham would trust his son so far, but did not say so. Eben, on his part, had not seen Herbert on board the train, and was not aware that he was a fellow passenger.
The journey was a tolerably long one—forty miles—and consumed an hour and a half. At last they rolled into the depot, and before the train had fairly stopped the passengers began to crowd toward the doors of the car.
“Let us remain till the crowd has passed out,” said George Melville. “It is disagreeable to me to get into the throng, and it saves very little time.”
“Very well, sir.”
Looking out of the car window, Herbert saw Eben Graham walking swiftly along the platform, and could not forbear wondering what had brought him to the city.
“My doctor's office is on Tremont Street,” said Mr. Melville. “I shall go there immediately, and may have to wait some time. It will be tiresome to you, and I shall let you go where you please. You can meet me at the Parker House, in School Street, at two o'clock.”
“Very well, sir.”