John made no response.
It was after midnight when Nannie declared that she must retire in order to rest herself for her journey. John switched on the light.
“John—” she hesitated.
“Yes, Nannie?”
“There is nothing in the world so unpleasant to me as asking for money, but—” She paused.
“Yes, Nannie?” John repeated, his tone warm.
Her face flushed under the rouge.
“Dear boy!” she murmured gratefully. “You see I didn’t have time to write to Professor Walsh, and there are all the expenses of the journey,” she added apologetically.
John took out his pocket book with trembling fingers.
“I don’t see where he comes into it,” he grumbled unsteadily, taking out some money. “Will this be enough?” Rather shamefacedly he held up two bills.
Mrs. Merwent glanced at the denominations as she received them.
“Oh, John, you oughtn’t—ought you?” she protested weakly.
“There would be more than that if I had it to give!” he insisted.
“When I get to Russellville—Oh, John!” Nannie crumpled the money in one hand. The other she placed on his shoulder.
He met her eyes. She leaned forward with a hasty movement and kissed his cheek.
“I may not have a chance tomorrow,” she whispered, then, turning quickly into the hall, went up the steps.
John heard her door close. He ascended the stairs after her very slowly.
XXXIII
Nannie’s alarm clock roused her when the sky was yet grey with dawn, but the details of her toilette were so exactingly executed and the final preparations for departure so numerous that the air had already begun to lose its early freshness when she emerged from her room.
“Lucy!” she called to her daughter in a flustered manner. “Please come and help me finish packing these suit cases.”
Lucy obeyed.
When all was ready Mrs. Merwent halted in front of her.
“You are a hard woman, Lucy. Maybe we’ll never see each other again.”
“I haven’t any hard feelings,” Lucy reasserted, staring over her mother’s head.
“Well, let’s have breakfast then. I don’t want to be late and hurried at the last. It makes you look like a fright.”
The two descended the stairs.
“I can’t eat in such a rush,” Mrs. Merwent complained at the table. “I do hope there’ll be a good diner on the train.” She turned to John, “When does the suburban leave, John?”
“Oh, I’ve ordered a machine for you, Nannie. It’s muddy from the rain last night and it will be much more comfortable going down.”
“Thank you, John. You are always thinking of other people’s comfort and welfare. It was just like you to do that.”
The automobile came as they were finishing the meal.
Nannie ran into the kitchen.
“Goodbye, Katy,” she said.
“Goodbye, Miss Nannie. I hopes you all has a fine trip,” Katy responded, smiling her widest.
“I’m going to carry down your grips,” declared John. And he and Mrs. Merwent mounted the stairs together.
“The last time!” she breathed.
As they turned to quit her room she stared around her.
“I’m so sorry to leave it,” she murmured, her eyes dim.
John bit his lips.
Nannie removed the rosebud which she had pinned to her travelling suit.
“Wear it for me, John,” she sighed as she thrust it into the lapel of his coat.
He picked up the satchel and suit case and went out.
As the automobile moved off Nannie gazed back long and solemnly at the house. With the exception of Dimmie, who was still clamoring to go on the train with his grandmother, the party of four was silent during the ride.
Once inside the station John excused himself.
“Stay here a minute and I’ll get the tickets,” he instructed the women.
“Buy me a small box of candy, too, John,” Nannie requested.
“All right,” he acceded.
He soon returned carrying several magazines, a basket of fruit, a bunch of carnations, and the box of chocolates Nannie had requested.
During his absence Miss Powell had joined Lucy and Nannie. She greeted him affably as he approached the little group.
“Good morning. You look like a regular Santa Claus,” she smiled, extending her hand as John raised his hat. “Where’s Mr. Sprague? Didn’t he come?”
“Oh, no,” interrupted Nannie. “Mr. Sprague doesn’t put himself out for everybody in the family.”
John handed over the tickets, the flowers, and the parcels.
“How lovely!” Nannie whispered, burying her nose in the bouquet. “Here, Jimmie.” She bestowed the box of sweetmeats on the child. “Don’t forget Nannie, will you, darling?”
“I want to go with you,” he stated, holding tightly to the box.
“Here, Nannie, you’re not treating yourself fair,” objected John. “If you ladies will excuse me again?” He bowed interrogatively toward Miss Powell.
“Certainly,” smiled the lady. “You aren’t going to allow Mrs. Merwent to deny herself, are you?”
“No,” said John. He walked across the waiting room to a fruit stand on the other side. When he came back he presented Nannie with a box of bonbons three or four times the size of the package she had given Dimmie.
“So you are going away, Mrs. Merwent?” resumed Miss Powell, after she and Nannie had expatiated on the dimensions of the sweetmeat box. “I hope you’ve had a pleasant visit. It has been so nice for Mrs. Winter to have had you with her. You’ll come back every year, I hope. When you return we must see more of each other.”
Nannie smiled graciously.
“Mother is going to be married,” announced Lucy suddenly.
Mrs. Merwent looked up quickly, then averted her face, and finally glanced at John. His air indicated that he was furious.
“Why, Lucy! Why—why, you mustn’t believe everything my daughter says, Miss Powell.” Nannie laughed nervously.
“O‑oh, but I do. I’ve never had occasion to doubt Mrs. Winter’s veracity. My congratulations to the happy man!” and Miss Powell kissed Nannie. “I don’t blame him. You look like a girl. No one would believe that you were Mrs. Winter’s mother,” regarding Lucy. “Why didn’t you tell me before? Be sure you send me an invitation.”
“I’ll not forget—if it ever happens,” Nannie promised rather shamefacedly. She kept edging toward John whose eyes were fixed on the ground.
A uniformed official droned something unintelligible in a singsong voice.
“That’s your train, Nannie,” John informed her abruptly. The party
