"Yes—I'm Laurence's father," he said, in a gentle laughing tone.
Mary stared at him.
"I don't wonder you're surprised.... I was passing through here, and thought I'd like to see you all," the old man said, without the slightest embarrassment. "But I hear Laurence isn't at home."
"No—but he may be—tomorrow, or almost any time," stammered Mary, at a loss.
"Well, then, I'll come again. I may be in town a day or so."
"But—why, you must stay here, of course," protested Mary blankly.
"Oh, I couldn't think of discommoding you—"
"Discommoding? Why, of course not. Come right in. I'll get a room ready for you at once."
"Please don't let me give any trouble," he pleaded, smiling. "I can stay at the hotel quite well."