“Because the things haven’t come from the store,” explained Margie, sullenly. “I ordered them in plenty of time.”
“Take your car and go and get ’em, Gilbert,” said the masterful voice.
“But, look here, Bill! I’m in a hurry—”
“Step!” said Bill.
And Gilbert was “stepping” out of the[Pg 388] back door just as Rose was coming in with the basket. He backed into the kitchen again, and she followed him.
“I think these are yours,” she said. “They were left at our house—by mistake, I’m sure.”
Some one took the basket from her, and looking up, she had her first sight of Bill.
He was, she thought, the most impressive human being she had ever set eyes on, and one of the handsomest. A tremendous fellow, blue-eyed and fair-haired, like Margie, but without a trace of her sullenness; there was a sort of grim good-humor in his face.
He was not smiling, though; none of them were, and Rose was seized with a sudden uneasiness in the presence of these three silent, blue-eyed creatures. With a deprecating smile, she opened the back door, to flee—when she remembered Nina.
“I—I wish—” she said, addressing Margie. “After you’ve quite finished here, of course. If you could just spare a moment to show me how to light that oil stove.”