They were still staring into each
other's eyes when the hall door closed sharply behind her.
"It's all--up!" breathed Jim.
Fully fifteen minutes passed before the old woman came back. She entered
the room quietly, and limped across the floor to the chair by the
window.
"It's real pretty," she said. "I allers did like gray."
"Gray?" stammered Ella.
"Yes!--fer coffins, ye know." Jim made a sudden movement, and started to
speak; but the old woman raised her hand. "You don't need ter say
anythin'," she interposed cheerfully. "I jest wanted ter make sure where
'twas, so I went up. You see, Jed's comin' home, an' I thought he might
feel--queer if he run on to it, casual-like."
"Jed--comin' home!"
The old woman smiled oddly.
"Oh, I didn't tell ye, did I? The doctor had this telegram yesterday,
an' brought it over to me. Ye know he was here last night. Read it." And
she pulled from her pocket a crumpled slip of paper. And Jim read:
Shall be there the 8th. For God's sake don't let me be too late.
J. D. DARLING
Wristers for Three
The great chair, sumptuous with satin-damask and soft with springs,
almost engulfed the tiny figure of the little old lady. To the old lady
herself it suddenly seemed the very embodiment of the luxurious ease
against which she was so impotently battling.
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