The Attic Guest: A Novel

by Robert E. Knowles

"Yes, are you asleep?"

"What's the matter? Are you sick?"

"No," I answered, creeping in; "but I want to talk to you. I'm frightened."

"What frightened you?" and my mother's tone was louder—"anybody trying to break in?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," as I cuddled closer. "But I want to talk to you—Mr. Giddens frightened me."

My mother was all awake. "Mr. Giddens, child," she exclaimed, rising a little on the bed; "how on earth could he frighten you? Tell me how," the note in her voice more imperative now.

I was silent a moment, not knowing just how to begin. Perhaps I felt a little ridiculous too.

"Tell me, Helen," my mother said presently, and quite firmly; "I'm waiting."

"Well," I began hesitatingly; "well, it's this—he wants me to get married."

My mother made an impatient poke at the bed-clothes. Then she partly rose on her elbow. Then she turned her pillow, finally laying her head back upon it.