No, Jane said, somewhat shortly, he was not; and as to where he was, that was more than they knew. Jane had been called from her work three times that morning to help with something which Edward could have done, and she did not feel sweet-natured.
“Well, I wish you would ask your folks if they have any idea where I might find him,” Mr. Westlake said anxiously; “I have just come from the office—it was the first chance I had for going this morning—and Arkwright says he sent a letter to me marked ‘Important’—sent it by Edward nearly three hours ago, he should think. I have some business matters that are very important, and I thought this might be a summons to me to go away on the express, and there is but a half-hour or less before it goes.”
Before this long sentence was finished Mrs. Steadman was at the door; but she had no information to give, and could only tell the annoyed man that she was sorry, and that she could not imagine what had detained Edward.
“I can,” muttered Jane, as he turned hurriedly away; “his own sweet notion is detaining him; he’s enjoying himself somewhere, readin’ a book or paper, and letting others get along the best way they can.” But Jane was only talking to herself.
The Steadman dinner bell was sounding through the house when Edward, flushed and embarrassed, came bounding up the stairs two steps at a time, to assure his mother how sorry he was.
“I hadn’t the least idea how time was going,” he explained; “never was so astonished in my life as I was to hear the bell ring for noon! Why, you see,” in answer to her anxious questions, “I got a lot of papers at the office—all about our closing days, you know; of course I was anxious to see what they said about the examinations, and essays, and things, so I stepped into Dr. Mason’s office just to glance them over. The doctor was out, and I sat and read first one thing and then another, and talked a little with folks who kept coming in search of the doctor, until, to my utter astonishment, as I tell you, I heard the bell.”
“Then nothing detained you, Edward?”
“Why, no, ma’am; nothing but the papers, as I tell you. I had not the faintest idea”—
She interrupted him. “Have you seen Mr. Westlake?”
“Yes’m,” and now Edward’s face crimsoned; “I met him on the street and gave him his letter. I’m dreadfully sorry about that; almost as sorry as I am about keeping you waiting, mother.”