Plenty
of people would pay well for ancestors, and it's about all they've
got down here. Hello, Claudia; we were just talking about you!"
Claudia put down the armful of red roses she was carrying and began
to fill a tall vase with them. "Did you say anything that wasn't
nice?" She bit a piece of stem off. "If you did, it wasn't so." She
turned to Laine. "You ought to see mother. She rarely has such
flowers as you brought down--You have made her so happy. It was very
good of you."
"Good!" The girl from Philadelphia went out of the room. "If
only--" In his eyes no longer was restraint, and Claudia turned her
head as if listening to something outside.
"I believe mother is calling me," she said. "Would you mind telling
her, Mr. Laine, I am coming right away?"
XIX
CHRISTMAS
Laine looked at his watch. Twenty minutes past twelve. Christmas
was over. Two days after were over also, and in the morning most of
the guests were going away.
From the basket by the hearth he threw a fresh log on the smoldering
fire, lifted it with his foot farther back on the hot ashes, drew the
old-fashioned arm-chair closer to the fender, and, turning down the
light from the lamp on the pie-crust table near the mantel, sat down
and lighted a fresh cigar.
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