Mrs. Webster glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece and remarked:
“Dan and Isabel have been away in that studio three-parts of an hour. I must say, my children are not much comfort to me! You would have thought that Dan would have tried to entertain me a little after being away enjoying himself; but no, he must needs go to that studio with Isabel. My company is not sufficiently entertaining, I suppose.”
At that very moment Dan came in, followed by Isabel. He was making a valiant effort to appear cheerful.
“Oh, please close the door, Dan!” were Mrs. Webster’s first words. Then as he was about to obey she added: “But never mind! I am just going to bed.”
“But you don’t usually go to bed so early,” said Dan. “I hope you are not feeling less well?”
“I am never well,” replied his mother.
“But not worse to-night, I hope?” said Dan, pulling up a chair near her.
“More tired—tired of waiting,” she answered.
“Waiting? Do you mean for us?” asked Dan. “I am so sorry. If I had had an idea——”
“That is just it, Dan. Modern sons and daughters never seem to have an idea. When your Aunt Lizzie and I were girls, we were devoted to our parents.”