He was looking round him with comprehension and observation.
"Where is Tom ?" It was the question they had been expecting all day.

It was in anticipation of this that messengers had been scouring the neighbourhood in search of that young ne'er-do-well, Tom Tufton, the good Squire's unworthy son.
And yet, unworthy as he was--idle, reckless, dissipated, a source of pain and anxiety to father, mother, and sister--young Tom was beloved by the people in and about his home, albeit they all shook their heads over his follies and wildness, and wondered with bated breath what would befall Gablehurst when the young master should be lord of all.
"Where is Tom ?" asked the Squire, in a firmer voice than they had thought to hear again.
"Dear father, we have sent for him," answered Rachel soothingly; "he will be here anon." "I would speak with Tom," said the Squire.

"There are things I needs must say to him ere I close my eyes for ever.

Perchance I have already delayed too long.

Yet I have waited and waited, hoping for signs of seriousness in one so soon to lose a parent.