How could they suppose anything was the matter? Not a suspicion of it ever crossed them. Never had Hamish appeared more light-hearted. In fact, in his self-consciousness, Hamish a little overdid it. Let him get them home before the worst came!
“We find you all well, I conclude!” said Mrs. Channing. “None of them came up with you! Arthur is in college, I suppose, and Tom and Charles are in school.”
“It was Arthur’s hour for college,” remarked Hamish, ignoring the rest of the sentence. “But he ought to be out now. Arthur is at Galloway’s again,” he added. “He did not write you word, I believe, as you were so shortly expected home.”
Mr. Channing turned a glance on his son, quick as lightning. “Cleared, Hamish?”
“In my opinion, yes. In the opinion of others, I fear not much more than he was before.”
“And himself?” asked Mr. Channing. “What does he say now?”
“He does not speak of it to me.”
Hamish put his head out at the window, nodding to some one who was passing. A question of Mr. Channing’s called it in again.
“Why has he gone back to Galloway’s?”
Hamish laughed. “Roland Yorke took an impromptu departure one fine morning, for Port Natal, leaving the office and Mr. Galloway to do the best they could with each other. Arthur buried his grievances and offered himself to Mr. Galloway in the emergency. I am not quite sure that I should have been so forgiving.”