He went there, and gathered what intelligence he could out of Mrs.
Jones's slow replies.
He asked if a young woman had been there that morning, and if she
had seen Will Wilson. "No!"
"Why not?"
"Why, bless you, 'cause he had sailed some hours before she came
asking for him."
There was a dead silence, broken only by the even, heavy sound of
Mrs. Jones's ironing.
"Where is the young woman now?" asked Job.
"Somewhere down at the docks," she thought. "Charley would know, if
he was in, but he wasn't. He was in mischief, somewhere or other,
she had no doubt. Boys always were. He would break his neck some
day, she knew"; so saying, she quietly spat upon her fresh iron, to
test its heat, and then went on with her business.
Job could have boxed her, he was in such a state of irritation. But
he did not, and he had his reward. Charley came in, whistling with
an air of indifference, assumed to carry off his knowledge of the
lateness of the hour to which he had lingered about the docks.
"Here's an old man come to know where the young woman is who went
out with thee this morning," said his mother, after she had bestowed
on him a little motherly scolding.
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