TOMMY went to the station to meet the four o’clock train from Paulding. Not finding the girls, he walked out of the village a little way over the familiar highway between the village and the town. He caught sight of them, but his heart sank. They were walking arm-in-arm. And though Betty saw him, there was no change in Rose’s manner until the other girl had had time to apprise her of his presence. It looked as if her blindness were inveterate!
He didn’t hurry until he saw that Betty’s face was bright. Then he bounded towards them as eagerly as awkwardly.
“What luck?” he asked.
Betty was prepared to meet him, but it was hard to speak.
“Tommy, I am just awfully sorry, but we can’t tell you anything, we can’t say one single thing,” she said soberly. “And please don’t say a word to anyone about the advertisement in the paper nor the doctor. It might be—O, perfectly dreadful, the very worst thing you could think of if you did. But it’s all right. Rose and I are—not excited as we were, but happy.”
“All right. Mum’s the word!” said the disappointed Tommy bravely. “I’ll never mention the paper nor anything. But—you are glad I found it?”
“Sure, Tommy,” said Rose.
“More than glad. We’re thankful beyond words,” Betty added solemnly.
“You got through early, Tommy,” observed Rose. “You said your father would keep you at it till the six o’clock whistle blew.”
“Wonders will never cease,” remarked Tommy. “Dad not only let me off early, but he even praised me for the way I’d worked—something he never did before within the memory of man. Not that he made any great splurge. He had to be grudging about it, or it wouldn’t have been dad.”