“I was waiting for you, dear. As soon as you get settled I must take a short trip. Business, you know. I do enjoy the short trips, the comings home; the feeling of moving along; not being relegated to an armchair.”
“Mother, how did you do it?”
“Oh! it was easy enough, once I threw off my own identity. Identities are so cramping, Brace; full of suggestions and fears. I took my mother’s maiden name––Helen Dana. After that, I just flew ahead.”
“Well, I won’t hold you back. You’re too good for that, Mother. I’ve kept the old tower room. I’m going to try to finish my book, now. Somehow I got to thinking it dead; but lately I’ve sort of heard it crying out for me. I hope the same little elevator devil is on the job yet. Funny, freckled scamp. He kissed me when I went away––I thought he was going to cry. Queer how a fellow remembered things like that over there. The little snapshots were fixed pictures––and some rather big-sized things shrank.”
They bade each other good-night. Mother and son, they looked marvellously alike at that moment. Then:
“I declare, I almost forgot Manly. How has this all struck him, Mother?”
Helen’s face was radiant.
“Gave up everything! His hard-won position, his late comfort and ease. He will have to begin again––he is where he says he belongs––mending and patching.”
“He’ll reach the top, Mother. Manly’s bound for the top of things.”