“We must make him very welcome,” answered the eyes of the big sister, so tired she could hardly hold her young shoulders straight.
“Maybe he won’t stay,” whispered Louise softly a minute later. “Sometimes he doesn’t; he might have a date.”
“Here’s hoping,” said Cornelia gayly, as she dabbed the batter into the irons for the first waffle. “You’ll have to contrive to catch him if he tries to go away, Lou.”
“I wonder what he thinks of his room,” giggled the little sister. “I guess maybe he thought he’d made a mistake and got into the wrong house.”
It was all very still upstairs. There were not even any footsteps going around, not for what seemed like several minutes; then slowly the footsteps came down the stairs again, hesitating, paused at the second flight, and came on until they reached the open dining-room door.
Carey stood there gazing at the table as Louise came in bearing the dish of potatoes, and Cornelia followed her with the platter of meat, both earnestly intent and flushed with their work; and just at that moment, before the girls had looked up, the front door opened, and in came the father, with Harry whistling gayly behind him.
“Oh, gee!” he cried, stopping his whistling. “Don’t that supper smell good? Here’s hoping there’s plenty of it.”
It was at that instant that Cornelia looked up, and her eyes met the eyes of her handsome, reckless-looking brother, astonishment, bewilderment, shame, delight, and embarrassment struggling in his face.
CHAPTER VI
“Nell!”