"An oldish man in a straw hat. Walk down a bit; you look that side of the street and I'll watch this; he may have gone into a shop—and I must get hold of him."
He walked rapidly on, and Julia, sucked for a moment into this whirlpool of an Uncle Simon that had already engulfed Mudd, Bobby, and the good name of the firm of Pettigrew, toiled beside him till they came nearly to the Park railings.
"He's gone," said Bobby, stopping suddenly dead. "It's no use; he's gone."
"Well, you'll find him again," said Julia hopefully. "Relatives always turn up."
"Oh, he's sure to turn up," said the other, "and that's what I'm dreading—it's the way he'll turn up that's bothering me."
"I could understand you better if I knew what you meant," said Julia. "Let's walk back; this is out of my direction."
They turned.
Despite his perplexity and annoyance, Bobby could not suppress a feeling of relief at having done with the business for a moment; all the same, he was really distressed. The craving for counsel and companionship in thought seized him.
"Julia, can you keep a secret?" asked he.
"Tight," said Julia.