"Mother isn't home."
He came towards her swiftly; his eyes shone with a sudden elated tenderness. She raised her arms and turned away her face, but he swept aside the ineffectual barrier. When he let her go she seated herself on the farther side of the room. Her glance was full of a soft rebuke. He met it, then looked down smilingly and awkwardly at his shoes.
"Where did you say your ma had gone?"
"She's gone to Mis' Lawrence's, and a few other places."
"Oh, calling. Old Mis' Norton goes about twice a year, and I ask her what it amounts to."
"I guess you'll find ma's calls'll amount to something."
"How's that?" he demanded.
"She's—going to try and find out what they intend giving."
"What they intend giving?"
"Yes. And without they intend giving something worth while, she says she won't invite 'em, and maybe we won't have a big wedding at all," she finished, pathetically.