“Ten; going on ’leven.”
“Say ‘eleven.’ You are very large of your age; I should think you might be older.”
Then there was an awkward silence, which the son broke by groping across the room to a sofa in the bay-window, where he sank down as if exhausted. Steenie bounded to his side, flashing a defiant glance at the tall old madam as she passed. “What is it, my Papa? Are you ill?”
“No, no; not at all! But we are both travel-soiled, and unfit for your dainty rooms, Mother. What quarters have you given us? We will go and freshen up a bit.”
Old Tubbs, still waiting outside the door, listened critically for his mistress’s reply. From it he would form his own basis of action.
“I gave you the spare chamber, Daniel; your daughter can take the little room next.” But Madam’s voice, saying this, sounded as if she were somewhat perplexed.
“Hm-m!” said Resolved to himself, “if she’d answered up quick, ‘Your old room,’ I’d a knowed she was glad, an’ meant things as they uset ter be. But—‘spare room!’ that means he’s comp’ny. She hain’t fergot how he went away, ner the dozen years between. Well, my—soul—I—declare-I’m sure I know which side my bread’s buttered! An’ comp’ny it is!”
“Shall I carry yer bag, Mr. Daniel?” asked this astute servant, as the travellers emerged from the library.
“No! oh, no! thank you. I fancy I’m better able than you, old fellow. Nothing wrong with me but my eyes. This way, sweetheart.”
Whatever the feeling of disappointment in Daniel Calthorp’s heart, there was nothing but gayety in Steenie’s, as she tripped merrily up the broad stairs behind him,—stopping now to examine the slender polished rods which held the carpet in place, and now to gaze through the window on the landing at the old-fashioned garden, where the late April snows still lingered in the clefts of the lilac branches and made a white border for the rows of box.