Miner presently took his departure, and John was left alone again. In the course of time he gave up looking at his watch, and relinquished all hope of hearing from Katharine. Little by little, the certainty formed itself in his mind that the meeting that evening was to be a hostile one.
Not very long after Miner had gone, another hand opened the door, and John sprang to his feet, for even in the slight sound he recognized the touch. Mrs. Ralston entered the room. With more impulsiveness than was usual in him he went quickly to meet her, and threw his arms round her, kissing her through her veil, damp and cold from the snowy air.
“Mother, darling—how good you are!” he exclaimed softly. “There isn’t anybody like you—really.”
“Why—Jack? What is it?” asked Mrs. Ralston, happy, but not understanding.
“Miner was here—he told me about your having been to old Routh to make him write—”
“That? Oh—that’s nothing. Of course I went—the first thing. Didn’t he say last night that he’d give his evidence in a court of law? I thought he might just as well do it. The business is all settled, dear boy. I’ve seen the lawyer, and he’s making out the deed. He’ll bring it here for me to sign when he comes up from his office, and the transfers of the titles will be registered to-morrow morning—just in time before Sunday.”
“Don’t talk about that, mother!” answered John. “I didn’t want you to do it, and it’s never going to make the slightest difference between us.”
“Well—perhaps not. But it makes all the difference to me. Promise me one thing, Jack.”
“Yes, mother—anything you like.”