“I hope he's got it. I do that. I'm sure he has. He ought to.”
Hutchinson looked over at her. She was that like her mother, that lass!
“You're excited, Ann,” he said.
“Yes, Father, I am—a bit. He's—he's washing his face now.” Sounds of splashing water could be heard through the intervening door.
Hutchinson watched her with some uneasiness.
“You care a lot for that lad,” he said.
She did not look fluttered. Her answer was quite candid.
“I said I did, Father. He's taking off his boots.”
“You know every sound he makes, and you're going away Saturday, and you'll never see him again.”
“That needn't stop me caring. It never did any one any harm to care for one of his sort.”