"I almost feel like I know you," Tilly went on to reassure her. "Somehow I almost feel that you are John's sister. I don't know why, but I do. Would you care if I kissed you?"
"Kissed me?" Dora started and stared blankly. "You mean— Huh! you don't want—"
"This is what I mean, you poor dear little thing!" and Tilly bent down and kissed the wan cheek. "There, now, you must come in and see our new house. John will not be home till nearly dark."
"I don't know whether John will fuss or not," Dora said. "Maybe he wanted me to wait till—till he told me. I don't know. From the way my aunt and Liz talks, a body would think he intended to cut us clean off his list."
"Liz?" Tilly asked. "I've heard John mention your aunt, but who is Liz?"
"Liz? Why, Liz— You know she is— Why, Liz is his mother!"
"But—but why do you call her Liz?" Tilly asked, in wonder.
"Because that's her name. Everybody calls her Liz. I don't know— I can't remember that I ever heard John call her anything. He was always cursing her—that is, when he spoke to her. I don't blame him. She is no good and is always after him for money."
They had reached the little parlor now, and Dora sank into one of the new chairs and swung her thin legs to and fro. She was now more at ease, and was inspecting the room with the wide eyes of a curious child.
"Curse her?" Tilly gasped. "You don't mean that my husband would actually curse his own mother?"