“Mrs. Harcourt is most welcome to us. She will always be welcome, either as a visitor or boarder, whichever you please, and just as long as she likes. She is so happy here in her old home,” said Mrs. Wynthrop pleasantly.
“Yes, she is very happy here in her old home, and in the delusion that it has never ceased to be her home,” said Harcourt.
“And it would be a great pity to disturb her in that delusion,” added the lady.
“Ah! I understand you, madam, and I thank you more than words can convey. So long as I live——”
Whatever the young man was going to add was cut short by a rap, followed by the entrance of Martha, who dropped her old-fashioned courtesy, and said:
“’Scuse me, ladies, but de ole madam is gettin’ mons’ous unpatient to see de young marster.”
“Go to your mother at once, Mr. Harcourt. We can talk afterward. Of course, you must make this your home while you stay in the neighborhood. No, not a word of objection now, but go,” said Mrs. Wynthrop with authority.
Harcourt bowed, and obeyed.
Martha preceded him across the broad hall, into a large front parlor, and through this to a rear door communicating with what was now called the parlor bedchamber, though formerly it had been only known as “mother’s room.”
Martha paused, with her hand on the knob of the lock, and said: