“Well, that’s what he ought to do—go back there and stay. He ought to live a while now.”
As they were returning, she said, for the first time able to disentangle from his narrative a strand other than that of the girl herself,
“I’m glad, Dick, that you had an opportunity to ease the other father. It was a deed worthy of you.”
“Ah, if you could see him!”
“And yet I think even if blind I should have known my own,” she mused.
“You mothers know more than anyone else in the world,” he replied, taking her arm.
“I’m glad you did it, Dick,” she said again. “It may in some way have had its effect upon your own father.”
“You’re getting mystical.”
“No,” she protested, “but I’ve never seen him so concerned with matters outside the—Acme. He’s quite changed.”
“Shall I tell him about this?”