“Why not to-night?” urged Carshaw, afire with a rage to be up and doing.
“What? To sleep there? Young man, you don’t know East Orange. Run away home to your ma!”
“Where have you been?” inquired Mrs. Carshaw when her son entered. Her air was subdued. She had suffered a good deal these later days.
“To Vermont.”
“Still pursuing that girl?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Have you found her?”
“No, mother.”