“Oh, mother!”
“There they are. George has forgotten the key. Will you go to the door? Polly has chosen to-day to clean the kitchen out. She would. She isn’t fit to be seen.”
René went to the door.
“Hullo! old man!”—René hated to be called “old man”—“Hullo! Got back?”
“Only just.”
“This is Elsie—Elsie Sherman. Mother’s told you?”
Elsie was pretty, as tall as René, and just a shade taller than George. She took the hand René held out, and squeezed it warmly.
“So you’re the wonderful brother?”
“Yes. The—— Yes, I’m George’s brother. You—you can take your things off in mother’s room if you like.”
“Or mine,” said George.