upon
him. It was such a pathetic, down-at-heels, likable little house! It
seemed to Wade as though it were saying to him: "I'm yours now. Don't
turn your back on me. I've been so very, very lonesome for so many
years! But now you've come, and you've opened my doors and windows and
given me the beautiful sunlight again, and I shall be very happy. Stay
with me and love me."

In the carryall the boy was leaning back with his feet on the dasher and
whistling softly through his teeth. The gray was nibbling sleepily at
the decrepit hitching-post. Wade glanced at his watch, and looked again
in surprise. It was later than he had thought. If he meant to get out of
Redding that night it was time he thought of starting back. But after a
moment of hesitation he turned from the door and went on with his
explorations. In the parlor there was light enough from the front door
to show him the long formal room with its white marble centre-table
adorned with a few gilt-topped books and a spindly lamp, the square
piano, the stiff-looking chairs and rockers, the few pictures against
the faded gold paper, the white mantel, set with shells and vases and a
few photographs, the quaint curving-backed sofa between the side
windows. He closed the door again and turned down the hall.

The stairway was narrow and winding, with a mahogany rail set upon white
spindles. It was uncarpeted and his feet sounded eerily on the steps. On
the floor above doors opened to left and right. The first led into what
had evidently been used as a spare bedroom. It was uncarpeted and but
scantily furnished. The door of the opposite room was closed. Wade
opened it reverently and unconsciously tiptoed to the window. When the
sunlight was streaming in he turned and surveyed the apartment with a
catch of his breath. It had been Her room. He had never seen her, yet he
had heard Ed speak of her so much that it seemed that he must have known
her. He tried not to think of the days when, lying there on the old
four-post bed with the knowledge of approaching death for company, she
had waited and waited for her son to come back to her. Ed had never
forgiven himself that, reflected Wade. He had been off in Wyoming at
the time, and when he had returned the two telegrams lay one upon the
other with a month's dust over them, the one apprising him of his
mother's illness and asking him to hurry home, the other tersely
announcing her death. Well, she knew all about it now, reflected