"Dear, oh dear," said poor Grandma. "This is just what I expected. They've never got Cyrus's telegram. Well, I might have known it. What shall I do?"
"How far is it to your son's?" asked the dark man.
"Only half a mile—just over the hill there. But I'll never get there alone this dark night."
"Of course not. But I'll go with you. The road is good—we'll do finely."
"But that train won't wait for you," gasped Grandma, half in protest.
"It doesn't matter. The Starmont freight passes here in half an hour and I'll go on her. Come along, Grandma."
"Oh, but you're good," said Grandma. "Some woman is proud to have you for a son."
The man did not answer. He had not answered any of the personal remarks Grandma had made to him in her conversation.
They were not long in reaching William George Sheldon's house, for the village road was good and Grandma was smart on her feet. She was welcomed with eagerness and surprise.
"To think that there was no one to meet you!" exclaimed William George. "But I never dreamed of your coming by train, knowing how you were set against it. Telegram? No, I got no telegram. S'pose Cyrus forgot to send it. I'm most heartily obliged to you, sir, for looking after my mother so kindly."