“Nonsense, mother.”
But he had to hold himself rather sternly in check as he found himself trying to keep away from his old house. He had a very definite ache for the children. He wanted just to see them, but he really couldn’t hang around street corners, he told himself. Finally, on the day he left, he telephoned the house. It was relief when Ellen answered. He had decided to hang up if it was Cecily’s voice.
“It’s Mr. Harrison, Ellen. No, I didn’t want to speak to Mrs. Harrison. It’s all right that she’s out. I’m leaving town in a few minutes and I was wondering if you could bring Dorothea down to the train. And Leslie? It isn’t far. Mrs. Harrison has the baby with her? Then, if you could—fine, fine, fine. I’ll send you home in a taxi. Can’t I send a taxi for you? All right, in half an hour, then.”
He was trembling when he saw the children come down the platform, Dorothea so competent now, Leslie tumbling along like a small brown bear. Such wonderful children! He had not had time for toys, but he had raided a confectioner’s.
“Are you going away again, daddy?”
“I must, dear. I have work to do. You must be a good girl and mind mother.”
“I do.”
“Mrs. Harrison well, Ellen?”
“Yes, Mr. Harrison. I’m sure she’ll be sorry you can’t come for dinner.”
“Trying to keep us respectable, Ellen?” Dick chuckled, but his laughter was a little husky.