“Of course he has gone there,” Anna Carroll said again, with a sharp impatience.
And then there was a whirring flash of steel past the window, and the fiercely hitching curve of a boy's back.
“It's Jim Leech on his wheel, and he's got a telegram,” proclaimed Eddy, and made a dash for the door.
There was a little ripple of excitement. Charlotte jumped up and followed Eddy, but he re-entered the room dancing aloof with the telegram. In spite of her efforts to reach it, he succeeded in tearing it open. Charlotte was almost crying and quite pale.
“Eddy,” she pleaded, “please give it to me—please.”
“Eddy, bring that telegram here,” commanded his aunt, half rising from her seat.
“It is only from Arthur, saying he is coming, of course,” said Mrs. Carroll, calmly sipping her coffee. “Arthur always telegraphs when he has been away anywhere and is coming home.”
“Eddy!” said Charlotte.
But Eddy essayed reading the telegram with an effect of being in the air, such was his defensive agility. “He's coming, I guess,” he said. “I don't think anything very bad has happened. I don't think it's an accident or anything, but the writing is awful. I should think that telegraph man would be ashamed to write like that.”
“Eddy, bring that telegram to me,” said Anna; “bring it at once.” And the boy finally obeyed.