Guild noticed a slender, red-haired girl seated on the steps, knitting, with a heap of dark-blue wool in her lap; but when the car drew up, Valentine Courland addressed her as "mother"—to the intense surprise of Karen as well as of himself, for Mrs. Courland seemed scarce older than her own daughter, and quite as youthfully attractive.
She welcomed Karen with a sweet directness of manner which won the girl instantly; and her manner to Guild was no less charming—an older woman's delightful recognition of a young man's admiration, and a smiling concession to this young man's youth and good looks.
When Valentine mentioned Karen's plight in the matter of wardrobe, her mother laughed gaily and, slipping one arm around Karen's waist, took her off into the house.
"We shall remedy that immediately," she said. "Come and see what suits you best."
"As for you," said Darrel to Guild, "your luggage is in your room. I suppose you are glad of that."
"Rather," said Guild with such intense feeling that Valentine Courland laughed outright.
"Take him to his beloved luggage," she said to Darrel; "I had no idea he was so vain. You know the room, don't you? It is next to your own."
"Harry, why are you limping?" asked Valentine as Darrel rose to go.
"You are. Why?"