Then she put her hand to her throat and stood rigid, staring down. For
the man had whipped off his cap and stood with his arms wide, looking
up.
Holding to the stair-rail, her knees trembling under her, Lucy went
down, and not until Dick's arms were around her was she sure that it was
Dick, and not his shabby, weary ghost. She clung to him, tears streaming
down her face, still in that cautious silence which governed them both;
she held him off and looked at him, and then strained herself to him
again, as though the sense of unreality were too strong, and only the
contact of his rough clothing made him real to her.
It was not until they were in her sitting-room with the door closed that
either of them dared to speak. Or perhaps, could speak. Even then she
kept hold of him.
"Dick!" she said. "Dick!"
And that, over and over.
"How is he?" he was able to ask finally.
"He has been very ill. I began to think--Dick, I'm afraid to tell him.
I'm afraid he'll die of joy."
He winced at that. There could not be much joy in the farewell that was
coming. Winced, and almost staggered. He had walked all the way from the
city, and he had had no food that day.
"We'll have to break it to him very gently," he said. "And he mustn't
see me like this. If you can find some of my clothes and Reynolds'
razor, I'll--" He caught suddenly to the back of a chair and held on to
it. "I haven't taken time to eat much to-day," he said, smiling at her.
"I guess I need food, Aunt Lucy."
For the first time then she saw his clothes, his shabbiness and
his pallor, and perhaps she guessed the truth. She got up, her face
twitching, and pushed him into a chair.
"You sit here," she said, "and leave the door closed. The nurse is out
for a walk, and she'll be in soon. I'll bring some milk and cookies now,
and start the fire. I've got some chops in the house."
When she came back almost immediately, with the familiar tray and the
familiar food, he was sitting where she had left him. He had spent the
entire time, had she known it, in impressing on his mind the familiar
details of the room, to carry away with him.
She stood beside him, a hand on his shoulder, to see that he drank the
milk slowly.