"Oh, Jim Deacon!"
"Hello!" Deacon turned his face toward the building whence the voice came.
"Somebody wants to see you on the road by the bridge over the railroad."
"See me? All right."
Filled with wonder, Deacon walked leisurely out of the yard and then reaching the road, followed in the wake of an urchin of the neighbourhood who had brought the summons, and could tell Deacon only that it was some one in an automobile.
It was, in fact, Jane Bostwick.
"Jump up here in the car, won't you, Jim?" Her voice was somewhat tense. "No, I'm not going to drive," she added as Deacon hesitated. "We can talk better."
"Have you heard from your father lately?" she asked as the young man sprang into the seat at her side.
He started.
"No, not in a week. Why, is there anything the matter with him?"