“I'm afraid, John, I couldn't get mother ready to go to-morrow. You don't quite understand—it would unsettle her dreadfully to get ready and go all in a rush like that. She has her mind made up for two weeks more—and I'm afraid I couldn't shorten it to less than one. Stay a week; it isn't much. You deserve a vacation. Mr. Crosman won't mind.”
The little imp already had his hands on the reins; but at the sound of the whistle, far up the Shandaken Valley, Halloran roused. “I don't know what I'm thinking of, Margaret. They need me there. Good-by; don't say anything—I'm afraid I'll stay. Good-by.”
“Good—good-by, John. Write to me.” She saw him on the train; she walked to the end of the platform to wave when his car passed; and then, deep in the gloom of the night, she walked slowly back to the carriage.
Halloran sent a message on ahead, and Crosman, all excitement, met him at the station.
“It's all over, Mr. Halloran,” he burst out, as they shook hands. “Mr. Corrigan's been down here to see you about advancing prices to cover losses.”
“We don't need to advance prices. We haven't lost anything.”
“Well—he only went back last night. He says he hopes you'll write him.”
“I'll see to it. Does Mr. Higginson know?”
“Only what Mamie could tell him. He wants to see you. I asked the doctor about it, and he says you can go in if you have some good news for him; if you haven't, you'd better stay away. I told him I guessed there wasn't much doubt about that.”
“I'll go over after supper.”