"Speak to her, Jack," said she quietly. "She cares for you."
Orde looked up in astonishment, but he did not pretend to deny the
implied accusation as to his destination.
"Why, mother!" he cried. "She's only seen me three or four times!
It's absurd--yet."
"I know," nodded Grandma Orde, wisely. "I know. But you mark my
words; she cares for you."
She said nothing more, but stood looking while Orde folded and laid
away, his head bent low in thought. Then she placed her hand for an
instant on his shoulder and went away. The Ordes were not a
demonstrative people.
The journey to New York was at that time very long and disagreeable,
but Orde bore it with his accustomed stoicism. He had visited the
metropolis before, so it was not unfamiliar to him. He was very
glad, however, to get away from the dust and monotony of the
railroad train. The September twilight was just falling. Through
its dusk the street lamps were popping into illumination as the
lamp-lighter made his rapid way. Orde boarded a horse-car and
jingled away down Fourth Avenue. He was pleased at having arrived,
and stretched his legs and filled his lungs twice with so evident an
enjoyment that several people smiled.
Pages:
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198