“If your father isn’t here by six, we’ll sit down. I can keep the tea hot for him.”
Not a shadow of apprehension was in Mrs. Raymond’s mind as she spoke, but already a heavy calamity had fallen upon her, of which she was unconscious.
Six o’clock came, and Mr. Raymond had not returned.
“I think you had better sit down to tea, children,” said their mother. “I am not very hungry, and I will wait for your father.”
They sat down accordingly, and Harry made a hearty supper, quite justifying the report he had given of his appetite.
Another hour passed away.
It was now seven o’clock, and Mr. Raymond was still absent.
“I wonder your father does not come,” said Mrs. Raymond, with a little vague restlessness, which had not yet been converted into anxiety. “He has not often been so late as this, without telling me beforehand that he meant to stay away.”
“I think I will go out and meet him,” said Harry.
To this Mrs. Raymond made no objection, feeling, on the whole, rather relieved by the proposal of her son.