Nettie's face was scarlet. "Father, what in the world——"
"I signed over at the Grant Home to-day. Move in next week." The women looked at her, smiling. Old man Minick came over to her and patted her plump arm. Then he pinched her smooth cheek with a quizzical thumb and forefinger. Pinched it and shook it ever so little.
"I don't know what you mean," said Nettie, out of breath.
"Yes, you do," said old man Minick, and while his tone was light and jesting there was in his old face something stern, something menacing. "Yes, you do."
When he entered the Grant Home a group of them was seated about the fireplace in the main hall. A neat, ruddy, septuagenarian circle. They greeted him casually, with delicacy of feeling, as if he were merely approaching them at their bench in the Park.
"Say, Minick, look here. Mowry here says China ought to have been included in the four-power treaty. He says——"
Old man Minick cleared his throat. "You take China, now," he said, "with her vast and practically, you might say, virgin country, why——"
An apple-cheeked maid in a black dress and a white apron stopped before him. He paused.
"Housekeeper says for me to tell you your room's all ready, if you'd like to look at it now."