Sewell went back to his tea, bewildered, confounded.
“What's the matter? Why didn't he come in to tea with you?” asked his wife.
“Who?”
“Barker.”
“What Barker?”
“David, what is the matter?”
Sewell started from his daze, and glanced at his children: “I'll tell you by and by, Lucy.”
XXXIII
A month passed, and Sewell heard nothing of Lemuel. His charge, always elusive and evanescent, had now completely vanished, and he could find no trace of him. Mr. Corey suggested advertising. Bellingham said, why not put it in the hands of a detective? He said he had never helped work anything up with a detective; he rather thought he should like to do it. Sewell thought of writing to Barker's mother at Willoughby Pastures, but he postponed it; perhaps it would alarm her if Barker were not there; Sewell had many other cares and duties; Lemuel became more and more a good intention of the indefinite future. After all, he had always shown the ability to take care of himself, and except that he had mysteriously disappeared there was no reason for anxiety about him.