The next moment he had Mr. Dean by the hand, and Mr. Dean’s face had lightened; even the black glasses that he wore seemed no longer to cloud it as he cried, “David, my boy! So you’re here! And your mother? And Ralph?”
“Right here,” said David. “This is mother, Mr. Dean.” He placed her hand in the blind man’s.
Mr. Dean, holding her hand, took off his hat and bowed; to Mrs. Ives the careful courtesy of his greeting to one whom he could not see was touching. “Oh, Mr. Dean,” she exclaimed, “how good of you to meet us!”
Then the blind man, enclosing her hand in both of his, said, “You’re David’s mother; I knew that I should like the sound of your voice.”
Next there was Ralph to be greeted. “And this is Maggie, Mr. Dean,” said David, and Mr. Dean said at once:
“You’ll find me a great care, Maggie, a great care, but no worse, I’m sure, than you’re expecting.”
At that Maggie giggled, quite at a loss for an answer and greatly delighted with a blind gentleman who had such power to read her thoughts.
“Now, Edith,” said Mr. Dean, turning his head. “Where are you, Edith?”
The attractive lady in gray whom David had noticed and who had stood back a little during the greetings came forward with a smile.
Mr. Dean introduced her. “Mrs. Ives,” he said, “this is my friend Mrs. Bradley, and she can tell you all the outs about me—though she probably won’t.”