The Celina Democrat. (Celina, O. [Ohio]) 1895-1921, 1910-09-16
CHAPTER XIII

II Thomas Gordon, opening his ewes
to consciousness on the mid-weaI,
( morning, felt the surprise which might
naturally grow out Of the sight of Ar
dea sitting in a low rocker at his bed
1 side, he did not evince 1t, possibly be-
cause there were other and more ner
picking things for the tired brain to
/ grapple with first.
/ For the moment he did not stir or
! try to speak. There was a long dream
! somewhere in the past in which he had
| been lost in the darkness, stumbIIny
and cropping and calling her to
! come and lead him out to life and
light 1t must have been a dream. he
| argued, and perhaps this was only q
continuation of 1t. Yes, no: she was
there in visible presence, bending over
tiny embroidery frame; and they
were alone together.
"Ardea!" he said, tremulously.
She looked up, and her eyes were
like cooling wellsprings TO quench the
fever fires in his.
You are better" she said, rising
I'll go and call your mother"
Wait a minute" he pleaded: then
his hand found the bandage on his
forehead. What happened to me?"
Don't you remember? Two men
tried to rob you last Saturday evening
as you were coming home. One OF
them struck you"
Saturday? And this is"
This is Wednesday,"
The cool preciseness of her replies
cut him to the heart. He did not need
to ask her why she had come. 1t was
mere neighborliness, and not for him.
but for his mother. He remembered
the Saturday evening quite clearly
now: Japheth's shout; the two men
springing on him; the instant Just pre-
ceding the crash of the blow when he
had recognized one of his assailants
and guessed the identity of the other.
1T was no more than right that you
should come" he said, bitterly. "It
was the least you could do since your
-"
She was moving toward the door, and
his ungrateful outburst had the effect
of stopping her. But she did not 60
back to him.
Il owe your mother anything she
likes to ask" she affirmed. in the same
colorless tone.
And you owe me nothing at all, you
would say. l might controvert that.
But no matter; we have passed the |
Saturday and have come to the We'd
nesday. Where is Norman? Hasn't |
he been here?"
He has been with you almost con-
stantly from the first. He was here
less than an hour ago."
Where is he now?"
She baaftatad a1Nbara Ic of
some kind in your business affairs
Your father spent the night in South
Tredegar; and a little while ago he
felephoned for Mr.. Norman-from the
on works, l think" She had moved
door knob.
You are in a desperate hurry,
aren't you?" he gritted; though the
grinding was from the pain it
cost him to move. Would you mind
handing me that desk telephone before
you go?"
IF you wish to speak to some one.
perhaps could dc. it for you" she sug-
yested, quite in the trained nurse tone.
If you could stretch your goodwill
o-to my mother-that far" he said
Please call my office-number five
six-G-and ask for Mr.. Nor
nan"
She complied, but with only a strange
'oung woman stenographer at the 9TH
r end of the wire. word of explana-
ion was necessary. This is Miss
)abuey. at Woodlawn. Mr.. Gordon is
letter. and he wishes to say-what did
'ou want to say?" she asked, turning
c him.
Just ask what's going on; If it's
Norman you've got hen know" said
'om, sinking back on the pillows.
What the stenographer had to say
ook some little time, and Ardea's coll
r came and went in hot flashes and
er eyes grew large and thoughtful as
ne listened When she put the ear
ieos down and spoke to the sick man.
er tone vas kinder.
There Ia an important business