The old Squire went into the
sitting-room to think it over and to learn what he could from
grandmother. He was very tired, and I am afraid he felt somewhat
discouraged about us.
Addison and I went up to our room early that evening. We exchanged
scarcely a word as we went gloomily to bed. We knew that we were to
blame; but we also felt tremendously indignant with Halstead.
Very early the next morning, however, long before it was light, Addison
roused me.
"Wake up," he said. "Let's go see if we can find that noodle of ours and
get him back home."
It was cold and dark and dreary; one of those miserable, shivery
mornings when you hate to stir out of bed. But I got up, for I agreed
with Addison that we ought to look for Halstead.
After dabbling our faces in ice-cold water and dressing we tiptoed
downstairs. Going to the kitchen, we kindled a fire in order to get a
bit of breakfast before we started. Theodora had heard us and came
hastily down to bear a hand. She guessed what we meant to do.
"I'm glad you're going," said she as she began to make coffee and to
warm some food.
It was partly the bitter weather, I think, but Addison and I felt so
cross that we could hardly trust ourselves to speak.
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