sharply.
“What’s your name?”
“Thurlow Reed.”
“What was your father’s name?”
“Joseph Reed. He was with the Carter Company for thirty years.”
“H’m! I thought so! You look like him. Well, Anne”turning to his wife with a twisted smile on his face“it’s all right. Go ahead with your purchase if it’s what you want. I know the house. That’s a bargain on that street! Who are those lawyers, Reed? Cook and Crowell? I thought so. I’ve had experience with them before. Anne, if you buy, get our lawyer to look into the papers and fix it up good and hard. Don’t let those crooks get by with murder or anything. And if you need me, get me long distance in Chicago tomorrow at noon. You know where. Good-bye! See you Saturday!”
The great man stooped and kissed his white-haired wife, swung into his overcoat, and was gone to the car that stood ready outside. Thurlow stood speechless, waiting, looking at the satisfied woman who smiled at him.
“When can I see the house?” she asked, as if she had no question in her mind about wanting to take it.
“Right away, as soon as you wish,” said Thurlow, trying to make his voice steady.
She glanced at her wristwatch.
“Now?” she said, looking up. “I have an engagement after dinner, but I’d like to get this thing fairly settled before I see the other club members.”
“Of course now!” said Thurlow, restraining himself from the desire to shout his joy. “I’m sorry I haven’t a car to take you in.”
“We have plenty of cars.” The lady smiled. “Martha”to a maid who was moving quietly about the dining room on the other side of the hall“tell Andrew to get the small car and take us on an errand. Tell him to hurry, please.”
The lady left Thurlow waiting in a daze of wonder while she got her wraps and was back just as the car came purring up to the door.
Just as easy as that, it was done. Thurlow couldn’t believe but that it would somehow fall through at the last. It was too good to be true. Probably when she saw it, she would have some fault to find with it, and that would be that! But while it lasted, the hope at least was great.
CHAPTER III
Thurlow sat in the backseat with Mrs. Steele, who asked him intelligent questions all the way to the house. How large was the lot? How many rooms did the house have? What kind of heating and lighting? How many bathrooms? Was there a garage? He answered the rapid fire of questions as honestly as he could, and then suddenly they were at the house and he was taking Mrs. Steele up the front walk, hoping his mother had not waited dinner for him, hoping the house would be in its usual beautiful order.
But her son need not have worried. Mrs. Reed was always ready to be seen. Even in her working garb she had a sweet dignity about her. Also, the lady he was bringing was a thoroughbred. She met the other woman with a gracious informality that made them at once friendly.
“Are you one of our club members whom I ought to know but don’t?” asked Mrs. Steele with a friendly smile.
“No,” said Mrs. Reed. “I’ve never had time for things like that. I’ve just lived a quiet home life.”
“Perhaps you’re to be envied,” said Mrs. Steele, studying the other woman’s strong, sweet face. “But I’m sure the club has been the loser thereby.”
Thurlow’s heart suddenly swelled with pride, and he gave his mother a tender look. He would never forget Mrs. Steele’s appreciation of his mother. Neither would Rilla, who was standing just within the pantry door, caught before she could slip upstairs.
“And now,” said Mrs. Steele, “I feel just like a thief coming here to try to steal your home away. It’s lovely. Isn’t it going to be too hard for you to leave it?”
A quick look of pain came into Mrs. Reed’s eyes, but she smiled through it.
“Hard? Yes. But we’ll be glad to get the chance to sell it. We’ve been unfortunate, like a good many others these days.”
“Yes, your son has been telling me. But now, since it had to come, I’m glad that we are to profit by it. Will it be all right for me to look the house over? I want to tell the rest of my committee about it before we meet with the man who is giving the property to our club as a memorial to his wife.”
Then Mrs. Steele was all practicality, asking questions, exclaiming over this and that pleasant feature of the house.
“I think it’s just what we want,” she said at last as, Rilla having been driven out from her hiding, the Reeds stood finally together and watched for their fate from those lips. “We’ll need another bath perhaps, some few alterations in partitions, but on the whole it is quite well planned for our purpose, and I’m positive the rest of the committee will agree with me. We have our meeting at ten tomorrow morning, and I should say by afternoon, if all goes well, we will be ready to sign the papers. But I would like to bring the rest of the committee, with Mr. Stanwood, our donor, to see the place before the papers are signed. Would it be inconvenient for you if we were to drive around sometime during the morning, say about half past eleven? Oh, thank you. Then I’m sure we shall find ready response from the other members!”
“She knows her onions,” said Rilla softly as she turned from the window where she had been watching the taillight of the Steele car disappear into the evening.
“Yes,” said Thurlow decidedly, “she knows all her vegetables, Rill, very well indeed.”
“Well, who is she?” asked Rilla. “And where did you pick her up, and what’s it all about? Isn’t it about time you told us the whole thing? Come springing a highbrow like that on us when we were starving to death for our dinner and never explaining a thing, and me with my kitchen apron on, caught in the pantry. Sit right down and explain yourself.”
“Not a word,” said the mother, laughing, “until dinner is on the table. Thurlow hasn’t even had any lunch, I’m quite sure; and as for the rest of us, we’ll all be sick if we get so excited. And, Rilla, quick! I smell the stew burning! If we have to eat stew day after day, it’s better to have it before it burns. You take it up, and I’ll get the coffee on. Hurry. Whatever news there is will keep, good or bad, till we’ve started dinner.”
So presently they were seated at the table, and Thurlow was telling his story amid a fire of questions from his sister and an interested, thoughtful silence from their mother.
“Well,” said Rilla when the tale was finally concluded and they couldn’t think of another question to ask, “I refuse to believe in it till it happens. This is the third time Thurl has gotten up an excitement, and it isn’t any more likely to happen this time than it was any of the others. I for one am glad there aren’t many more days before the worst is over.”
There were tears behind the challenging voice, and the mother and brother realized that it was going to be hard for Rilla to give up her home. She had always loved it here so, where she and her father used to
