"Oh, Tom," she cried, "he hasn't come yet, and we are so
worried! Did you see anything of father as you came along?"
"No," was Tom's answer. "But we didn't look for him along the
road, as we came by the turnpike, and he wouldn't travel that
way. But he will be along at any moment now. You must remember
it's quite a walk from my house, and--"
"But he was on his bicycle," said Mary. "We wanted him to go in
the auto, but he said he wanted some exercise after supper, and
he went over on his wheel. He said he'd be right back, but he
hasn't come yet."
"Oh, he will!" said Tom reassuringly. "He may have had a
puncture, or something like that. Bicyclists are just as liable
to them as autoists," he added with a laugh.
"Well, I'm sure I hope it will be all right," sighed Mary. "I
wish you could convince mother to that effect. She's as nervous
as a cat. Come in and tell us what to do."
"Oh, he'll be all right," declared Mr. Damon, adding his
assurances to Tom's.
They found Mrs. Nestor verging on an attack of hysteria. Though
Mr. Nestor often went out during the evening, he seldom stayed
late.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144