“Why, no, she ain’t. She’s gone down to Reliance Clark’s. Reliance, she was up to our house most of the forenoon and then Esther went back along with her. Said she didn’t know whether she’d be home to dinner or not.”
Somehow this announcement ruffled the Townsend feelings still more. For his niece to treat thus carelessly so important an event as his return was irritating as well as most unusual.
“That’s queer,” he growled. “She knew I would be at home for dinner, didn’t she? Yes, of course she did.”
“Um-hum. She knew. Nabby reminded her of it just as she and Reliance were goin’ out the door, but she didn’t make no answer. Looked awful sober and—and kind of strange, so Nabby thought.”
Townsend ate a lonely dinner and enjoyed it little. Just as he was finishing his pie Esther came in at the front door and went up the stairs to her room. He called to her, but if she heard she did not heed. He called again. Then he put down his fork, rose from the table, and followed her.
She was in her room; the door was open, and he entered without knocking.
“Well,” he demanded, in a tone half jocular and half serious. “What’s all this? Clear out just when you know I’m due at home, let me eat my dinner all by myself, and then, when you do come in, march upstairs without so much as a hail. What’s the matter? Aren’t sick, are you?”
She was standing by the mirror, removing her hat. She spoke over her shoulder.
“No, Uncle Foster,” she said. “I’m not sick.”
“Humph! I am glad of that much, anyhow. Well, I haven’t seen you for a whole day. How about a kiss? That’s been the usual custom between you and me, unless my memory’s gone adrift.”