"Oh, those thin people are wiry. She's always looked so. She'll live to be eighty."
"She was a rosy little girl."
"Well, you just trust me, I've given my word."
Here was where I had to turn off to mother's, and we said good-night.
Dan was not home the next evening, but if he went to the Morrisons' he took another way and entered by the garden. And there was a bright light in the parlor that fronted the street.
I could only wait. I knew people bent on an intrigue could outwit the keenest eyes.
Dan came over to say good-by to mother, and was so tender it brought tears to her eyes as she told it over. He was most cordial to Sophie and the children. I went down to see him off and he shook hands in a friendly manner. It was a splendid day. I thought I would go to the Morrisons' that evening to see if all was right, but there came up a curious threatening blow. I spent the evening with mother. She was very proud of Dan and was delighted to think he had given up drinking to any excess. Liquor drinking was a very common thing even among respectable people, but drunkenness was beginning to be frowned upon.
About midnight the storm broke. We did not feel it so much here, but the roar of the elements was something frightful. I am sure I had never known such a storm. The wreck and damage were terrible. Mother was almost crazy about Dan.
I made my way to the Gaynors' about mid-afternoon. Their house was solidly built of brick and they had suffered very slight damage. Ruth was a pale little ghost and her sapphire-blue eyes asked wordless questions. None of us spoke of the Prairie Bird. It was too soon to hear.
The lake seemed strewn with wrecks. At the warehouses everybody was appalled. The only hope was that any boat seeing the storm coming up would run to shelter.