Cornelia, so tired she could hardly get up out of her chair after she dropped into it, lifted a bravely smiling face, and realized that she had scored a point. Carey had liked the supper and was over his grouch. The first night had been ushered in greatly. She was just wondering whether she dared suggest that he help wash the dishes when he suddenly jerked out his watch, glanced at it, and shoved his chair back noisily.
“Gee! I’ve gotta beat it,” he said hurriedly as he strode to the hall door. “I’ve gotta date!” and before the family had drawn the one quick, startled, aghast breath of disappointment and tried to think of some way to detain him, or find out where he was going, or when he was coming back, he had slammed the front door behind him.
The father had an ashen-gray, helpless look; Louise’s mouth drooped at the corners, and there were tears in her eyes as she held up her head bravely and carried a pile of plates out to the kitchen, while Harry with an ugly sneer on his young lips shoved his chair back, noisily murmuring: “Aw, gee! Gotta date! Always gotta date! When I grow up, I’ll see if I always have to have a date!” Then he snatched an armful of dishes, and strode to the kitchen, grumbling in an undertone all the way.
Cornelia cast a quick, apprehensive look at her father, and said cheerily:
“Oh, never mind. Of course young men have dates; and when you’ve promised, you know it isn’t easy to change. Come, let’s get these dishes out of the way quickly; and then we can sit down and talk. It’s great to all be together again, isn’t it? Father, dear, how long do you suppose it will be before mother is well? Have you had a letter today?”
The father beamed at her again, and, putting his hand in his pocket, drew out an official-looking envelope.
“Yes,” he said wistfully; “that is, a note from the nurse with the report. Of course she is not allowed to write. She just sends her love, that’s all, and says she’s getting well as fast as possible. She seems to be gaining a little. Here’s the report.”
They all gathered around it, studying the little white, mysterious paper that was to tell them how the dear mother was getting on, and then turned away little wiser. Suddenly Harry, noticing the sag of Cornelia’s shoulder as she stood holding on to the back of her father’s chair, turned with a swift motion, and gathered her into his strong young arms like a bear. Before she could protest he bore her over to the old, humpy couch, where he deposited her with a gruff gentleness.
“There you are!” he puffed commandingly. “You lie there, and Lou and I will do the dishes. You’re all in, and you don’t know enough to know it.”
“Nonsense!” said Cornelia, laughing and trying to rise. “I’m used to playing basketball and hockey, and doing all sorts of stunts. It won’t hurt me to get a little tired. I’m going to wash those dishes, and you can wipe them.”