CHAPTER XLII

’sveryhotforApril.Shan’tItakeyouup,andthen,perhaps,alittlespinroundbyTewin?” “YougoonasifIdidn’tknowmyownmind,”saidMr.Wilcoxfretfully.Charleshardenedhismouth.“Youyoungfellows’oneideaistogetintoamotor.Itellyou,IwanttowalkI’mveryfondofwalking.” “Oh,allrightI’maboutthehouseifyouwantmeforanything.Ithoughtofnotgoinguptotheofficeto-day,ifthatisyourwish.” “Itis,indeed,myboy,”saidMr.Wilcox,andlaidahandonhissleeve. Charlesdidnotlikeithewasuneasyabouthisfather,whodidnotseemhimselfthismorning.Therewasapetulanttouchabouthim—morelikeawoman.Coulditbethathewasgrowingold?TheWilcoxeswerenotlackinginaffectiontheyhaditroyally,buttheydidnotknowhowtouseit.Itwasthetalentinthenapkin,and,forawarm-heartedman,Charleshadconveyedverylittlejoy.Ashewatchedhisfathershufflinguptheroad,hehadavagueregret—awishthatsomethinghadbeendifferentsomewhere—awish(thoughhedidnotexpressitthus)thathehadbeentaughttosay“I”inhisyouth.HemeanttomakeupforMargaret’sdefection,butknewthathisfatherhadbeenveryhappywithheruntilyesterday.Howhadshedoneit?Bysomedishonesttrick,nodoubt—buthow? Mr.Wilcoxreappearedateleven,lookingverytired.TherewastobeaninquestonLeonard’sbodyto-morrow,andthepolicerequiredhissontoattend. “Iexpectedthat,”saidCharles.“Ishallnaturallybethemostimportantwitnessthere.”