Mr. Inchbald watched the face and manner of his friend as he read, and after he read, these few words, — but the one expressed only gravity, the other, action. Mr. Inchbald felt he could do nothing, and slowly went down stairs again to Mr. Underhill. He found him still over the fire between the cakes and the coffee. But Mr. Inchbald totally forgot to be hospitable, and not a word was said till Winthrop came in and he and the letter-bringer had wrung each other's hand, with a brief 'how d' ye do.'
"How did you leave them, Mr. Underhill?"
"Well — they were wantin' you pretty bad —"
"Did she send for me?"
"Well — no — I guess not," said the other with something of hesitancy, or of consideration, in his speech. Winthrop stood silent a moment.
"I shall take horse immediately. You will go — how?"
"May as well ride along with you," said Mr. Underhill, settling his coat. "I'm wet — a trifle — but may as well ride it off as any way. Start now?"
"Have you breakfasted?"
"Well — no, I hain't had time, you see — I come straight to you."
"Mr. Inchbald, I must go to the office a few minutes — will you give my friend a mouthful?"