The doorbell rang and Dr. Harlow went to answer it.
“Some one to see you, Catherine,” he said, returning.
Catherine found Algernon himself standing in the doorway, his big pale eyes full of distress.
“Excuse my coming just at supper time,” he said, “but I’ve lost Elsmere. No one seems to have seen him since we did this afternoon, and I thought perhaps you would remember which direction he went in. It was while I was in the house he disappeared, you know. He almost always comes home for meals!”
14Catherine meditated. “I didn’t see him go. I was looking at some papers, and when I glanced up he wasn’t there. Let’s go out on the porch again, and think. You had been sitting on the railing and I was in the steamer chair–O Elsmere Swinburne, where have you been?”
Out from under the porch, rubbing eyes and yawning, came a rumpled little figure, bits of straw and dead leaves clinging to him, and a big red Irish setter following.
Algernon bent down and gathered the baby figure up with a tenderness that made Catherine’s heart beat more quickly, as she picked the straws from the stylish shoes and socks, and the barefoot upper legs.
“Where were you?” she repeated.
“Hotspur’s house, all cozy,” sighed Elsmere. “Warm house. Did go to sleep. Bosquitoes bite me. Bite my legs. I want my supper,” and drooping over his tall brother’s shoulders he fell asleep again.
“Come around to-morrow afternoon early, Algernon,” said Catherine, as he moved away with his burden. “I have a plan I want you to help me carry out. I know you’ll like it. It’s something nice for you and Winsted.”