Miss Julia likewise was owner of two smiles. The one was sad, pathetic, the smile of the hopeless soul. The other, and that usually seen by those about her, was wide and winning beyond words—the smile which had given her her place in the hearts of all Spring Valley. These many years "Miss Julia," as she was known to all, had held her place as "city librarian," in which quasi-public capacity she was known of all, and loved of all as well.
She came in now smiling, and kissed Aurora Lane before she allowed herself to see, standing in the inner room, the tall young man, who seemed to fill up the little apartment. A swift color came into her face as, with a sort of summoning up of her courage, she went up to him, holding out her hands. Even she put up her cheek to be kissed by him. It was her peculiarity when feeling any emotion, any eagerness, to flush brightly. She did so now.
"Oh, Miss Julia!" exclaimed Don. "I'm glad to see you. Why, I know you too—I feel as though I've always known you just as you are! So—you're my fairy godmother, who's got a real mother for me! All these years—till I was a man grown—how could you?—but I'd know you anywhere, because you're just the image of the picture you sent me with that of her. I mean when you wrote me last week for the first time—that wonderful letter—and told me I had a mother, and she was here, but that I mustn't ever come to see her. Of course, I wired at once I was coming! See now——"
"You are tall, Don," said Miss Julia softly. "You are very tall. You are—you are fine! I'm so glad you grew up tall. All the heroes in my books are tall, you know." She laughed aloud now, a rippling, joyous little laugh, and hooking her cane across the chair arm, sank back into Aurora Lane's largest rocker, her tender, wistful face very much suffused.
Don fetched his mother also a chair, and seated himself, still regarding Miss Julia curiously. He saw the two women look at one another, and could not quite tell what lay in the look.
As for Miss Julia, she was still in ignorance of the late events in the public square, because she had come directly across to Aurora Lane's house after the closing of her own duties at the library this Saturday afternoon, when most of her own patrons were disposed for the open than for books.
"Yes, Don," said she again, "you are fine!" Her eyes were all alight with genuine pride in him. "I'm so glad after all you came to see us before you went on West—even when I told you you mustn't! Oh, believe me, your mother scolded me! But I presume you are in a hurry to get away? And you've grown up! After all, twenty years is only a little time. Must you be in a hurry to leave us?"
"I ought not to be," said he, smiling pleasantly after all. "Surely I ought to come and see you two good partners first—I could not go away without that. Oh, mother has told me about you—or at least I'm sure she was just going to when you came in. Strange—I've got to get acquainted with my mother—and you. But I know you—you're two good partners, that's what you are—two good scouts together—isn't it true?"
Miss Julia flushed brightly. His chance word had gone passing close to the truth, but he did not know the truth. Don Lane did not know that here sat almost the only woman friend Aurora Lane could claim in all Spring Valley. Miss Julia in fact was silent partner in this very millinery shop—and silent partner in yet other affairs of which Don Lane was yet to learn.
This was a great day for Miss Julia as well as for Don's mother. Time and again these two women had sat in this very room and planned for this homecoming of the boy—this boy—time and again planned, and then agreed he must not come—their son. For—yes—they both called him son! If Don Lane, Dieudonné Lane, was filius nullius, at least he might boast two mothers.