"Why to Philadelphia?" queried Chadwick. "Chester is much closer by."
"Yes, but the pictures are much better in Philadelphia. We always go there on a Saturday night, Henry and I. We're always in time for the nine o'clock show."
The old man laughed as he arose from the table and walked slowly from the room. The woman, clearing the dishes from the table, shook her head as she heard him chortling from the stairway.
"A funny sort, Grant Chadwick is," she commented, half aloud. "Fussy, too — but it's not hard to work for him. Clean up house in the morning; cook a meal in the afternoon. Outside of that, he takes care of himself.
"Gets his own breakfast. Then I cook his dinner. He always makes out alone on Sundays, and I'm glad of it. Gives me one day away from this place. Spooky old house, too."
The woman resumed her soliloquy after she had carried the dishes to the pantry. There, engaged in washing the tableware, she added a few remarks to her former ones.
"It wasn't so bad around here when young Mr. Denby used to live in the place. A good sort, young Denby Chadwick. Put up with a lot of nonsense from the old man. Small wonder he moved out.
"He likes his old uncle, though — leastwise I reckon he does. Comes to see him once in a while. I wish he was here more often. He seems to liven the place."
The woman finished her work in a few minutes. She went into the front hall and called a good night up the stairs. There was no response, but she seemed to accept that as a matter of course. She went from the house, closing the front door behind her.
Upstairs, Grant Chadwick was dozing in an armchair. He always took a short nap after his frugal dinner.