Going to Miss Osborne’s that afternoon, she found that little lady packing and singing.
“Why don’t you come over with me to-day?” she asked.
“Oh, I can’t,” said Carrie. “I’ll be there Friday. Would you mind lending me the twenty-five dollars you spoke of?”
“Why, no,” said Lola, going for her purse.
“I want to get some other things,” said Carrie.
“Oh, that’s all right,” answered the little girl, good-naturedly, glad to be of service. It had been days since Hurstwood had done more than go to the grocery or to the news-stand. Now the weariness of indoors was upon him—had been for two days—but chill, grey weather had held him back. Friday broke fair and warm. It was one of those lovely harbingers of spring, given as a sign in dreary winter that earth is not forsaken of warmth and beauty. The blue heaven, holding its one golden orb, poured down a crystal wash of warm light. It was plain, from the voice of the sparrows, that all was halcyon outside. Carrie raised the front windows, and felt the south wind blowing.
“It’s lovely out to-day,” she remarked.
“Is it?” said Hurstwood.
After breakfast, he immediately got his other clothes.
“Will you be back for lunch?” asked Carrie nervously.