She led him as she spoke to the foot of the stairs where a soft light above invited to the quiet restfulness of upstairs, and a gleam of a white bath-room lured unspeakably his tired body. But his brain was functioning again. He saw a way of escape from this delightful but fearful situation.
“That’s the trouble,” he said, “I have lost my keys! They were in my bag, and the bag rolled down the embankment into the burning cars.”
“Oh!”
“Ah!” from the two women as he hurried on.
“I am sorry to disappoint you, but I guess I’ll have to forego the supper. It will take too long to get that trunk open and get ready. You two just better go over to the church, and I’ll stick around here and get shaped up for tomorrow. You know I’ve been through a pretty rough time and—”
“I know you have,” broke in the gentle voice firmly, “but I’m afraid you’ll really have to go to that supper. It’s all been prepared as a welcome for you on account of your father and mother, you know, and it’s pretty much for a church and a town to remember and love people like that through thirty years of absence. Besides, Mr. Harper, the president of the bank, will be there, and I don’t suppose it would be a very good thing for your future as the new teller if you were to stay away. You see, really, they are honoring you, and will be terribly disappointed—”
Murray Van Rensselaer began to feel as if he really were the person who was being waited for over at that church supper, and his natural savoir-faire came to his assistance.
“Oh, in that case of course,” he said gallantly, “it wouldn’t do to disappoint them, but how can I possibly manage it? You don’t happen to have a suit of your son’s that you’d be willing to loan me?”
He said it with just the right shade of depreciation and humility. It was a great favor of course to ask for the suit of her dead son. But she flashed a pleasant tender look at him.
“No, dear, I haven’t. I gave them all away where they would be useful. But I am sure we can get that trunk of yours open.”