Entering the building he was soon seated in a departing car. He alighted at Rosedene and walked in the direction of the Winters’ house. As he passed it he gazed fixedly at the darkened upstairs windows. Half a block further on he turned back and repassed the house, still staring at the darkened panes. Then he continued his way to the station and from there returned to the city.
Lucy was lying in her room. She wept silently with Dimmie asleep in her arms.
After breakfast the next morning Dimmie began to search for his hat.
“You don’t need to go to kindergarten, Son. You can stay at home with Mother if you like,” said Lucy.
“But I want to go,” he argued. “There’s lots of little boys and girls goes and the teacher is dandy. We have lots of fun.”
“All right, Son. You can go if you’d rather,” consented Lucy sadly, “but there’s no use in your going over to Mrs. Hamilton’s any more so early. You can go from here when the wagon passes.”
“But I like to go early,” protested Dimmie. “Mrs. Hamilton always laughs an’ Stella an’ me play till the wagon comes. It’s too lonesome here.”
Lucy tied his little cravat and, fixing his hat on properly, allowed him to depart without further words.
XXXIV
When John returned on Sunday he again found Lucy seated in the dining room by an open window, a book in her lap.
“Hello!” he greeted, pausing in the doorway and setting down his suit case.
Lucy looked up.
Going over to her chair, he bent and kissed her forehead lightly. He seemed to have regained some of his former cheerful spirits. His color was nearer normal and his eyes were brighter.
“I think we ought to get rid of Katy, John,” advised Lucy that evening after dinner. “There are not so many in the family now and it will save money. I don’t really need her. I can do the work without any difficulty.”
“I don’t want you tied up here at home all the time,” he replied. “You need a girl.”
“But, John, a servant costs so much and I don’t mind the work a bit.”
“No. We can’t stay shut in the house night and day. We’ll go dotty.”
“All right, John. Just as you say.” Lucy sighed as she spoke.
“I’m sleepy,” said Dimmie yawning.
“All right, Sonny,” she said. “Kiss Papa good night.” And Lucy led the child away.
John entered the living room, and, seating himself at the piano, attempted to play the accompaniment to “Ouvrez tes yeux.”
When Lucy came downstairs again after putting Dimmie to bed, John rose.
“Let’s walk over to the Hamiltons’ for a few minutes,” he suggested.
“Why—” she began, and hesitated, adding hastily. “All right, John. Let me get a scarf from my room and speak to Katy.”
In her room she scrutinized her face in the mirror. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks. She wiped the tears viciously away, and, seizing a coarse wash cloth, rubbed her cheeks fiercely until a little color appeared in them.
When they arrived at the Hamiltons’ home the doctor met them at the door.
“Come in,” he invited cordially. “Mrs. Hamilton is putting Stella to bed. She’ll be down in a minute. How are you feeling by this time, Mrs. Winter? You’re looking better.”
“I’m feeling all right, thank you, Doctor.”
Doctor Hamilton pushed forward chairs for his visitors and they seated themselves.
“Your mother went away yesterday, didn’t she?” he continued. “Is she coming back soon?”
“Oh, probably not till next summer, anyway,” put in John.
“She’s been gone several days. She’s going to be married soon,” supplemented Lucy.
John gave her a quick accusing glance.
“Indeed,” commented Doctor Hamilton.
Mrs. Hamilton appeared in the doorway.
“Come on into the study, Mr. Winter, and smoke a cigar. We’ll leave the ladies to talk gossip,” urged the Doctor, rising.
“You mean leave the ladies in order to talk gossip.” Mrs. Hamilton laughed as she straightened her husband’s cravat.
It was after ten o’clock when John and Lucy reached home.
“Let’s go to a show tomorrow night,” he proposed as he unlocked the front door. “I’ll get the tickets when I go down town.”
“All right, John,” Lucy acquiesced without demur.
“We ought to get out more than we’ve been in the habit of doing,” he went on. “It’s a good thing to know more people. We have practically no friends at all.”
“I don’t—” Lucy ventured. Then, checking herself, “We have a few good friends, John.”
“I don’t know who they are. I don’t count Jim Sprague as a friend any more, and Miss Storms, that you used to be so crazy about, has shown herself to be a two-faced cat. The Hamiltons are all right in their way, but—”
“I don’t think you are just to Miss Storms, John. She—”
“Now, see here, Lucy,” John’s face began to grow red, “if you are going to stick up for that woman after all she’s done, we might as well understand each other right now. I simply won’t have you—”
“Don’t be angry, John,” pleaded Lucy humbly. “I won’t say any more about her.”
“I don’t want you to have any more to do with her, either,” he dictated with suppressed vehemence.
“All right, John,” Lucy submitted again.
The following Sunday Mrs. Hamilton invited John and Lucy to tea.
“I suppose we might as well accept,” John had remarked when Lucy told him of the invitation. “We’ve no place else to go.”
They arrived early. The summer was established and a crimson sunset ended a brilliant day. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton were seated on the porch and both rose as their visitors came up the walk.
“We were enjoying the view over our park,” Mrs. Hamilton observed facetiously, nodding toward the vacant ground which permitted an unobstructed view of the sky, and extending her hand as she spoke.
“Yes, indeed. There are worse places to live than Rosedene,” declared the doctor, pulling forward a rocking chair for Lucy.
“You used to stay at home so closely,” Mrs. Hamilton told her guests when the party was seated, “but now you seem
