“Well, he does, for all the world.”
“I have been thinking, Mrs. Morris, that when Spring comes you and I will change our place of abode, and perhaps go into the country, at least for a while.”
“But maybe I wouldn’t find my boy there.”
“You would be just as likely to find him there as anywhere.”
“Oh, I s’pose I would,” said Mrs. Morris, dropping her work and looking steadily down at the carpet. “Here is your letters,” she said, as a violent ring of the bell brought her to the door. “My, what a lot of ’em.”
Miss Elsworth tore open the seals, one by one, perusing their contents. There was evidently something very pleasing in the last one opened, for Miss Elsworth, after reading it carefully twice through, folded and replaced it in its cover, smiling, and with sparkling eyes.
“I am very glad,” she said.
“Of what?” Mrs. Morris asked.
“My last work is meeting with a very rapid sale, so my publisher tells me, and I shall no doubt make a snug little sum.”
“So you’re gettin’ rich, are you? Well, I hope you will. P’r’aps you might look around a little for my boy. You’re sure you’d know him?”