Again it was impossible for her to find the words she sought, and their hands clung together.
“It’s so strange,” she said, in a low tone; “so strange that my mother should speak of you with such deep friendliness. She told me about meeting you this afternoon. She told me how glad she was that Chester had such a staunch and worthy friend. She’s wonderfully changed, Dick.”
“She is indeed.”
“The doctors have given some encouragement that her memory might be restored, but I almost think it is better as it is. The recollection of the past would be bitter to her now.”
“To all of us the past holds both sweet and bitter memories.”
“I’m very glad fortune brought us together here at the Springs, if only for a few days. We must take mother back home soon, for father is ill and lonely. Poor father! In his heart he always admired you, Dick.”
Thus drawn into reminiscences and memories of the past, they chatted until Chester finally returned.
Five minutes after the reappearance of Arlington, a tall, quick-stepping young man ascended from the street, and by the light over the entrance of the hotel Dick recognized young Joe Crowfoot.
Joe turned and came forward quickly at Merriwell’s call.
“Looking for you, Dick,” he said. “You can handle my grandfather better than I. He will listen to you when he won’t hear a word from me. Unfortunately, he’s started to celebrate the pleasure of our meeting here. You know what that means. He’s found liquor. I’ve locked him in a room at the Sunset, but I can’t get the whisky away from him. I wish you would come over with me and see what you can do.”