The Beloved Stranger - By Grace Livingston Hill Page 0,30

last car whirled down the lighted driveway, “I have to thank you, Miss Catherwood, for a most delightful evening. Sherrill, it’s been wonderful to have had this time with you. I must be getting on my way. I think your butler is bringing my things.”

Just then the butler came toward them bearing Graham Copeland’s suitcase and high hat. Sherrill looked up in surprise. With what ease he had arranged everything so that there would be no unpleasant pauses for explanation.

But Aunt Pat swung around upon him with a quick searching look at Sherrill.

“Why, where are you staying?” she asked cordially.

“I’m at the Wiltshire,” he answered quickly. “I hadn’t time to get into proper garb before the ceremony, so I brought my things up here, and Sherrill very kindly gave me a place to dress.”

“Well, then why don’t you just stay here tonight? It’s pretty late, I guess. We’ve plenty of rooms now, you know,” and she gave him a little friendly smile that she gave only to an honored few whom she liked.

“Thank you,” he said with an amused twinkle at Sherrill. “That would be delightful, but I’ve an appointment quite early in the morning, and my briefcase is at the hotel. I think I’d better go back to my room. But I certainly appreciate the invitation.”

“Well, then, you’ll be with us to dinner tomorrow night surely. That is, unless you and Sherry have made other plans.”

“I certainly wish I could,” said the young man wistfully, “but unfortunately I am obliged to take the noon train to Washington to meet another appointment which is quite important.”

Aunt Pat looked disappointed.

“I wonder,” said the young man hesitantly, “I’m not sure how long I shall be obliged to stay in Washington—several days, likely, as I have some important records to look up at the Patent Office—but I shall be passing through the city on my way to New York sometime next week probably. Would I be presuming if I stopped off and called on you both?”

“Presuming?” said Aunt Pat with a keen look at Sherrill. “Well, not so far as I know,” and she gave one of her quaint little chuckles.

“I do hope you can,” said Sherrill earnestly with a look that left no doubt of her wish in the matter.

His eyes searched hers gravely for an instant, and then he said as though he had received a royal command: “Then I shall surely be here if it is at all possible. I’ll call up and find out if it is convenient.”

“Of course it’ll be convenient!” said the old lady. “I’m always at home whether anybody else is or not, and I’ll be glad to see you.”

He bowed a gracious thanks, then turned to Sherrill as if reluctant to relinquish his office of assistant.

“I’ll hope you’ll be—” He hesitated, then finished earnestly, “All right.”

There was something in his eyes that brought a warm little comforted feeling around her heart.

“Oh yes!” she answered fervently. “Thank you! You were—It was wonderful having you here!” she finished with heightened color.

“Oh, but you’re not going that way!” said the old lady. “Gemmie, tell Stanley to bring the car around and take Mr. Copeland—”

A moment more and he was gone, and Sherrill had a sudden feeling of being left alone in a tumultuous world.

Now she must have it out with Aunt Pat!

Slowly she turned away from the door and faced the old lady, all her lovely buoyant spirits gone, just a weary, troubled little girl who looked as if she wanted to cry.

Chapter 6

Well,” said Aunt Pat with grim satisfaction in her voice, “you never did anything in your life that pleased me so much!”

“Oh, you darling Aunt Pat!” said Sherrill, her face glowing with sudden relief, and quick tears brimming unbidden into her eyes.

“Why, certainly!” said the old lady crisply. “You know I never did like that Carter McArthur. Now, come upstairs to my room and tell me all about it!”

“Oh, but aren’t you too tired tonight, Aunt Pat?” asked Sherrill, struggling under the shock of relief.

“Bosh!” said Aunt Pat. “You know neither you nor I will sleep a wink till we’ve had it out. Run and get your robe on. I suppose you gave the grand new one to that little washed-out piece. Of course she had to have it. But put on your old one with the blue butterflies. I like that one best anyway. Gemmie”—raising her voice to the faithful maid who was never far away—“send up two plates of everything to my room.