“Stay at home? Why, you’d far better—”
“What?” said the Captain.
“Come oftener!” cried the old lady. “Let ’em get over it by getting used to it.”
Captain Price looked doubtful. “But how about your daughter?”
Mrs. North quailed. “I forgot Mary,” she admitted.
“I don’t bother you, coming to see you, do I?” the Captain said, anxiously.
“Why, Alfred, I love to see you. If our children would just let us alone!”
“First it was our parents,” said Captain Price. He frowned heavily. “According to other people, first we were too young to have sense; and now we’re too old.” He took out his worn old pouch, plugged some shag into his pipe, and struck a match under the mantel-piece. He sighed, with deep discouragement.
Mrs. North sighed too. Neither of them spoke for a moment; then the little old lady drew a quick breath and flashed a look at him; opened her lips; closed them with a snap; then regarded the toe of her slipper fixedly. The color flooded up to her soft white hair.
The Captain, staring hopelessly, suddenly blinked; then his honest red face slowly broadened into beaming astonishment and satisfaction. “Mrs. North—”