EXPEDIENTS.
His mother was in bed and asleep when Horace returned from his play—or at least so he thought. He opened her door and found the room dark, and said, "Are you asleep, mamma?" and got no answer, which he thought rather strange, as she was such a light sleeper. But, to be sure, last night had been so disturbed, she had not slept at all, and the day had been fatiguing and exciting. No doubt she was very tired. He retired on tiptoe, making, as was natural, far more noise than when he had come in without any precaution at all. But she made no sign; he did not wake her, where she lay, very still, with her eyes closed in the dark, holding her very breath that he might not suspect. Horace had enjoyed his evening. The play had been amusing, the dinner good. Dick Fareham, indeed, had asked a few questions.
"I suppose you found the governor all right?" he said.
"I didn't," said Horace; "the mother did."
"And he's all right, I hope?"
"I can't tell you," said Horace, shortly; "I said I hadn't seen him."
The conversation had ended thus for the moment, but young Fareham was too curious to leave it so. He asked Horace when he was coming to the London office. "I know I'm only a warming-pan," he said, "keeping the place warm for you. I suppose that will be settled while you are here."
"I don't know anything about it," said Horace. "We heard you were all at sixes and sevens in the office."
"I at sixes and sevens!"
"Oh, I don't mean to be disagreeable. We heard so," said Horace, "and that the governor had his hands full."