The room was faintly lighted by a kerosene lamp on the mantelpiece; but the real radiance was in Johnny’s face, as he looked across a bunch of roses in the middle of the narrow table at his Annie.
“Annie walked out two miles to get them flowers,” he said.
“Must ’a’ wanted something to do,” said Mrs. Pugsley.
“I’d ’a’ got ’em for you, Annie,” Dave said bashfully, “if I’d a-known you wanted ’em.” And it was just then that the carriage drew up at the door.
Dick, hot and disappointed and disgusted at the coachman’s stupidity in bringing him into this obviously mechanic’s suburb, leaned out to say, “Drive on!” And then he saw her.
There was a flutter in the tenement at seeing a hack draw up. Johnny Graham rose, seeing in a burst of fancy an important and hasty job, and a carriage sent to convey him to a wilderness of leaks or broken tips. Mrs. Pugsley conceived the hack to be a summons from a lady friend who had expected to need her services on a felicitous occasion, and was instantly agitated, and got up panting, and saying:—
“Goodness! they’ve sent!”
But Annie knew.
One wonders if she flinched, there in the twilight. She rose at once and went to the front door, her hand outstretched in pleased welcome.
“Why, Mr. Temple! This is very pleasant,” she said. “Father, dear, this is Mr. Temple.”