“Another time, Mr. Kendall,” he said. “Good morning.”
But he had gone only a few yards when the reverend gentleman was calling to him to return.
“Albert! Albert!” called Mr. Kendall.
He was obliged to turn back, he could do nothing else, and as he did so the door opened. It was Helen who opened it and she stood there upon the threshold and looked down at him. For a moment, a barely perceptible interval, she looked, then he heard her catch her breath quickly and saw her put one hand upon the door jamb as if for support. The next, and she was running down the steps, her hands outstretched and the light of welcome in her eyes.
“Why, Albert Speranza!” she cried. “Why, ALBERT!”
He seized her hands. “Helen!” he cried, and added involuntarily, “My, but it's good to see you again!”
She laughed and so did he. All his embarrassment was gone. They were like two children, like the boy and girl who had known each other in the old days.
“And when did you get here?” she asked. “And what do you mean by surprising us like this? I saw your grandfather yesterday morning and he didn't say a word about your coming.”
“He didn't know I was coming. I didn't know it myself until the day before. And when did you come? Your father didn't tell me you were here. I didn't know until I heard him call your name.”
He was calling it again. Calling it and demanding attention for his precious codfish.