“Mrs. Nixey?”
The visitor had recognized the old lady but the converse did not hold true.
“You don’t remember me, Mrs. Nixey. I’m Sally Munt.”
The old lady gave vent to surprise, pleasure, incredulity. But even then she was not able to identify one who but a few years ago had been almost as familiar to her as her own son until Sally had lifted her cap and rolled back the fur collar of her immense khaki overcoat.
“Well, I never!” The old woman’s voice was shrill and excited. “It is Miss Munt. I am pleased to see you, my dear.” The distinguished visitor suddenly received a peck on a firm brown cheek. “He knows all about you. I read him the account of the doings at the Floral Hall. He wanted to be there, but the Doctor thought it wouldn’t be good for him. It is kind of you to come and see him.... It’ll please him so.”
Sally cut the old lady short with a brief, pointed question or two. He was very well in health except that he couldn’t see, but he was always telling his mother that he was quite sure he would be able to see presently, although Dr. Minyard had told her privately that he couldn’t promise anything.
The old lady led the way along the short path and applied a latchkey to the front door. As it opened, Sally caught the delicately played notes of a piano floating softly across the tiny hall.
“He plays for hours and hours and hours,” said the old lady. “Your dear father has just given him a beautiful new piano. He’s been such a friend to Harold. Wonderful the interest he’s taken in him.”
She opened the door of a small sitting room, whence the music came, but the player wholly absorbed did not hear them enter.
“Harold, who do you think has come to see you!”