She turned easterly, watching for the number. There was Mrs. Wilcox's frowsy head at the front basement window; and Charlie felt almost afraid to ring at the front-door, so she tried that lowly entrance.
"Come in," said a voice in response to her knock.
It was evident she had grown out of Mrs. Wilcox's remembrance, so she rather awkwardly introduced herself.
"Charlie Kenneth! The land sakes! How you have growed! Why, I'm right glad to see you. How is Granny and all the children, and all the folks at Madison?"
Charlie "lumped" them, and answered, "Pretty well."
"Did you come down all alone? And how did you find us? Mary Jane'll be powerful glad to see you. Ain't you most tired to death luggin' that heavy bag? Do take off your things, and get rested."
Charlie complied. Mrs. Wilcox went on with her endless string of questions, even after she rose to set the supper-table.
"And so Florence is married. Strange you've never heard about her. She's so rich and grand that I s'pose she don't want to remember poor relations. And Hal's been a teachin' school! Why, you're quite gettin' up in the world."
Mary Jane soon made her appearance. A flirting, flippant girl of sixteen, rather good-looking, and trimmed up with ribbons and cheap furbelows. She appeared glad to see Charlie, and all the questions were asked over again. Then Mr. Wilcox came in, washed his hands and face, and they sat down to supper. Before they were half through, Tom and Ed came tumbling in, full of fun and nonsense.