"No," returned Rita; "I have not seen him."
"He'll come this evening, I'm sure," said Sukey, patronizingly. "I have company to-night. He's looking well, though he was sick for three or four weeks at an inn near Wheeling. His illness caused the delay in getting home. I just thought he never would come, didn't you?"
Rita was too happy to be disturbed by insinuations of any kind, and although she would have liked to be the first person to see Dic, she paid no heed to Sukey's suggestive remarks.
"He's as handsome as ever," continued Sukey, "and has a mustache. But you will see him for yourself this evening. Good-by. I must be going. Now come over real soon."
"I will," answered Rita, and Sukey left her musing happily upon the hearth log.
Mr. Bays had been in Indianapolis for several days. He had not raised the three thousand dollars, Williams, Sr., being at that time short of money. Mrs. Bays and Tom had that evening driven to town to meet the nominal head of the house. It was two o'clock when Sukey left Rita gazing into the fire and computing the minutes till evening, when she knew Dic would be with her. He might possibly come over for supper.
The weather was cold, and snow had been falling since noon. The sycamore log was under the snow, and she did not hope to have Dic to herself; but to have him at all would be joy sufficient, and she would dream of him until he should come. While dreaming, she turned her face toward the window to watch the falling snow. She did not see the snow, but instead saw a man. She did not scream with delight, as I suppose she should have done; she simply rose to her feet and waited in the fireplace till the door opened and Dic walked in. She did not go to him, but stood motionless till he came to her.
"Are you not glad to see me, Rita?" he asked. He could not see her eyes in the dark room, or he would have had no need to ask. "Are you not glad?" he repeated. She did not answer, but taking his face between her hands drew it down to hers with infinite tenderness and passion. Then, with her arms about his neck, she spoke the one word, "Glad?" and Dic knew.
After she had uttered the big word of one syllable, she buried her face on his breast and began to weep.
"Don't cry, Rita," pleaded Dic, "don't cry. I can't bear it."