“Sure,” she said. Her face sobered, and she added: “You know, Mr. Pogany, you don’t move about so much when you can’t see, and—O, it seems beautiful to walk. And with Betty—it’s so easy and natural I forget—everything.”
“It’s all right then, so far as I’m concerned,” he said warmly.
Rose clapped her hands, slipped down, and catching hold of Mr. Pogany’s shoulders, drew him down and kissed him warmly. He patted her shoulder.
“And I’ll give Betty the money her fares would amount to, so I calculate you two girls will make yourself sick with lollypops,” he declared.
Shortly afterwards, Meadowcroft saw Rose Harrow pass the house with Pogany, her arm in his, chattering and smiling. The hardware man’s tall form was bent awkwardly, and he minced along in a manner comical to witness. But his rather grim face was beaming. And Meadowcroft understood everything when that evening Tommy dropped in to tell him that Betty’s father had given in.
“How did it happen, Tommy?” he asked.
“Nobody knows. That’s the queer part of it. Just as he was going back to the shop after his dinner, he went out to the kitchen where Betty was washing dishes and told her if she wanted to walk to school instead of ride she could. And Betty almost fell over. And she doesn’t hardly ever do much hugging of him, and her hands were in the water. But she just dried ’em a little mite on her apron and run and put her arms round his neck and kissed him. And she was glad she did it before he told her the rest—which was that she could have her car-fares for keeps—not bad, was it?”
“No, indeed. And she hasn’t any idea what changed him?”
“Nary bit. And then she runs right over to Rose’s and asks her if she doesn’t want to walk part of the time anyhow. And Rose wants to walk all the time, and her mother’s going to talk it over with her father to-night. And her parents are easy marks, you know, compared with Betty’s and mine.”