He hesitated, caught her hand, held it tight. "I might as well tell you, dear. John Massey has bought out Job Doane's hardware shop."
"Bought him out?"
"Yes. No one seems to know why. He paid a good price and he'll probably sell again. I don't know, I'm sure."
He pressed his hand wearily to his head. "What's to be done, dear? What's to be done? There's no other opening for me in Anchorville."
She rallied to help him as always. "At least we'll not meet trouble till it's full upon us. There's always some way found."
And, as always, he brightened beneath her touch, let hope spring again within his heart. "Shall you work upstairs tonight?" she asked, knowing that companionship with his beloved machine closed his mind to other matters.
"If you will come upstairs with me," he said. "Can you leave your mending? I want you close by."
She felt strongly and joyously his need of her. "I will come," she said.
They were on the way upstairs, treading carefully that the lightest sleeper, Suzanna, might not be awakened, when the hurried peal came at the front door. They stopped. "Go on to the attic," said Mrs. Procter; "it's perhaps Mrs. Reynolds come to borrow something," so Mr. Procter went on. Mrs. Procter ran lightly down.
She opened the front door to David. Near him stood Graham and behind, his tail wagging furiously, Peter's dog, Jerry. David began at once.