CHAPTER VII
Jim hastened to Kedzie, and she greeted him with anxiety. She saw by his radiant face that he brought cheerful news.
“I've seen mother,” he exclaimed, “and she's tickled to death with your picture. She wants to see you right away. She wouldn't listen to anything but your coming right over to live at our house till we decide what we want to do.”
Kedzie's heart turned a somersault of joy; then it flopped.
“I've got no clothes fit for your house.”
“Oh, Lord!” Jim groaned. “What do you think we are, a continual reception? You can go out to-morrow and shop all you want to.”
“We-ell, all ri-ight,” Kedzie pondered.
Jim was taken aback at her failure to glow with his success; and when she said, “I hate to leave momma and poppa,” he writhed.
He had neither the courage nor the inclination to invite them to come along and make a jolly house-party. There was room enough for a dozen Thropps in the big house, but he doubted if there were room in his mother's heart for three Thropps at a time, or for the elder Thropps at any time. After all, his mother had some rights. He protected them by lying glibly.
“My mother sent you her compliments, Mrs. Thropp, and said she would call on you as soon as she could. She's very busy, you know—as I told you. Well, come along, Kedzie. I'd like to have you home in time for dinner.”