“I don’t believe it, grandma; I doubt if the man ever did anything from a purely unselfish motive.”
“I fear you have mortally offended him,” remarked Ronald, with a slight laugh.
“I hope so, indeed,” she returned, her breast heaving and her eyes sparkling, “and that his sister may take up his quarrel sufficiently to secure us against a visit of condolence from her.”
Vain hope! Bangs’s anger was not of the kind to lead him to abandon his purpose; and the next day Mrs. Wiley, as sweet, smiling, and gracious as ever, again presented herself at their door.
Bertie showed her into the sitting-room, which she found quite deserted, though through the open door of the adjoining bedroom she caught a glimpse of Ronald reclining upon his couch.
“Is your poor, dear brother worse?” she asked.
“He’s not quite so well to-day, ma’am,” Bertie answered, placing a chair for her near the fire. “Please sit down, and I’ll call grandmother.”
“Sister Miriam too, my dear; I came to see them both.”
“Mirry is busy with the baking; she can’t come, I know; but I’ll tell her,” the child answered, softly closing Ronald’s door, in obedience to a sign from him, then passing into the kitchen, where the ladies of the family were busied with housewifely labors, the grandmother preparing vegetables for dinner, Miriam making pies and baking bread; for they kept no servant or cook except in the busy harvest time.
Both turned an anxious look upon Bertie as he came in. They had thought, on hearing the ring, that the caller was probably Mr. Himes, the holder of the mortgage, coming for his interest. It was due that day; he had always been very punctual in calling for it, and hitherto had never failed to find it ready for him.