Dusk came early that autumn afternoon, and so, try as she might, Dories could see little of the neighborhoods through which the taxi was taking them. It was a long ride. At first it was through a business district where many lights flashed on, and where their progress was very slow because of the traffic. Then the noise gradually lessened, big elm trees could be seen lining the streets, and far back among other trees and on wide lawns, lights from large homes flickered. At last the taxi turned in between two high stone gate posts. Miss Moore was sitting ram-rod straight and the girls, watching, found it hard to interpret her expression. Dories asked: “Aunt Jane, have we reached your home?”
They were surprised at the bitterness of the tone in which the reply was given: “Home? No! We have reached my house. A place where there is only a housekeeper and a maid to welcome you is not a home.”
Dories slipped a hand in her aunt’s and held it close. She wanted to say something comforting, but could think of nothing. The taxi had stopped under the portico by the front steps, and, when she had been helped out, Miss Moore paid the driver. Then they went upon the wide stone porch, followed by the man, laden with their baggage. “I can’t understand why there isn’t a light in the house. The maids knew I was to return almost any day.” Miss Moore rang the bell as she spoke.
Suddenly lights within were flashed on. The heavy oak door was thrown open and a small boy leaped out and hurled himself at one of the girls. “Dori! Hello, Dori!” he cried jubilantly. “Here’s Mother and me waiting to surprise you all.” And truly enough, there back of him was Mrs. Moore, smiling and holding out her hand to the old woman, who stood as one dazed. Then, comprehending what it all meant, she went in, tears falling unheeded down her wrinkled cheeks. She took the outstretched hand as she said tremulously, “My Peter’s wife is here to welcome me home.” She was so deeply affected that Mrs. Moore, after stooping to quietly kiss her daughter, led the old woman into a formally furnished parlor and sat with her on a handsome old lounge. Then to the small boy in the doorway she said, “Little Peter, show Dori and Nann up to their room.”
What those two women had to say to each other, no one ever knew, but that it drew them very close together was evident by the loving expression in the grey eyes of the older woman when she looked at the younger.
Meanwhile the two girls, led by the small boy, entered a large upper room which seemed to overlook a garden. Like the rooms below, it was formally furnished after the style of an earlier period, but it seemed very grand indeed to Dories.
Her eyes were star-like with wonderment. “Nann,” she half whispered in an awed voice when Peter had gleefully displayed the wardrobe where the girls were to hang their dresses and had opened each empty bureau drawer that they were to use, “do you suppose that Mother, Peter and I are to live here forever?”
“I’m sure of it!” Nann replied. “And O, Dori, isn’t it wonderful?”
Just then a bell in some room below tinkled musically. “That’s the supper bell,” the small boy told them. “Hilda’s the cook, and O, Dori, such nice puddings as she can make. Yum! Jum!” Then he cried excitedly: “Quick! Take off your hats. Here’s the bathroom that belongs to you. Honestly, Dori, you have one all to yourself, and Mother and I, we have one.”
The girls smiled at the little fellow’s enthusiasm. Dories felt as though she must be dreaming. It all seemed so unreal.