Then Harry, who had been wondering why Tom delayed his tidings, burst out with them, and Tom added lamely,
"Yes, it's true, Mrs. Dennison. So you see I can't come."
She laughed.
"I must accept your excuse," she said, and added a few kind words. "As for Adela," she went on, "she's never been to see me lately, but for your sake I'll be humble and go and see her to-morrow."
Harry, as though suddenly remembering, exclaimed that he must tell the children; in fact, he had an idea that a man liked to talk about his engagement to a woman alone, and plumed himself on getting out of the room with some dexterity. So Tom and Maggie Dennison were left for a little while together.
At first they talked of Adela, but it was on Tom's mind to say something else, and at last he contrived to give it utterance.
"I can't tell you," he said, looking away from her, "how glad I was to get your message. This—this trouble—has been horrible. I know I behaved like a sulky fool. I was quite wrong. It's awfully good of you to forget it."
"Don't talk like that," she said in a low, slow voice. "How do you think Harry's looking?"
"Oh, better than I have seen him for a long time. But you're not looking very blooming, Mrs. Dennison."