During the next two or three days John in fancy lived through all the agony of an unsuccessful search for another position, and at last awoke to a proper understanding of the case. Haviland was afraid to dismiss him.
The directors' meeting was called for the twenty-ninth, and late in the afternoon of the twenty-fourth, as John was closing his desk, Haviland came out of the private office and strode to his side.
“I want you to come up to my house to-night, Norton; it's about that statement I want to see you. Can you come?”
John did not look at Haviland; he felt embarrassed and ill at ease. They had avoided each other for days.
“I am sorry to bother you, Norton. Won't you come up to dinner? I am all alone.”
“No,” hastily. “I guess I'd better not; my wife will be expecting me.”
“Just as you like. I can look for you about eight?”
“Yes.”
Haviland moved away a step. He was mopping his face with his handkerchief. He seemed old and broken. His aggressive arrogance of manner had entirely deserted him.
“Everything was all right to-day?” he inquired aimlessly.