SON OF THE WIND
of his mirror. Then he heard the shutting of the inner door. He awaited her in the hall at the foot of the clambering stair. His expectation had not time to sharpen to impatience before she appeared, still in her brown skirt and working blouse, but with the dull cloud of her hair admirably controlled.
"We might go out through the new house," she suggested, and led the way.
The dust of yesterday was gone from the dining-room, but the chairs, covered with cloths, still towered terrifically on the tables. The hard, yellowish light was reflected on them from four directions. She looked up at the ceiling and around at the staring uncurtained windows. "It's a beautiful dining-room," she said; then her unexpected quick turn of the head caught Carron's expression. She smiled, appreciative, but not disturbed by his amusement. "It is a beautiful dining-room," she explained, "it's so convenient. Convenient things look just as beautiful to mother as pretty ones do to us," she added, as their feet made a clatter down the glistening uncarpeted hall. "Of course, the old house is nicer to look at, and to live in; but these rooms are quite nice to dance in, and when I was a child, I used to like to play here. I used to
love to make a run, and then slide from there—"
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