Subconsciously he avoided the creaking
step, but outside his mother's door he stopped, arrested by a
greeting from within.
"That you, Jack?" queried Grandma Orde.
For answer Orde pushed open the door, which stood an inch or so
ajar, and entered. A dim light from a distant street-lamp, filtered
through the branches of a tree, flickered against the ceiling. By
its aid he made out the great square bed, and divined the tiny
figure of his mother. He seated himself sidewise on the edge of the
bed.
"Go to Jane's?" queried grandma in a low voice, to avoid awakening
grandpa, who slept in the adjoining room.
"Yes," replied Orde, in the same tone.
"Who was there?"
"Oh, about the usual crowd."
He fell into an abstracted silence, which endured for several
minutes.
"Mother," said he abruptly, at last, "I've met the girl I want for
my wife."
Grandma Orde sat up in bed.
"Who is she?" she demanded.
"Her name is Carroll Bishop," said Orde, "and she's visiting Jane
Hubbard."
"Yes, but WHO is she?" insisted Grandma Orde. "Where is she from?"
Orde stared at her in the dim light.
"Why, mother," he repeated for the second time that day, "blest if I
know that!"
X
Orde was up and out at six o'clock the following morning.
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