Mr.and Mrs.George Harley had made an appointment to meet at half-past eleven sharp on the doorstep of the little house in Sixty-seventh Street.Business had interrupted their honeymoon and brought them unexpectedly to New York.Harley had come by subway from Wall Street to the Grand Central and taken a taxicab.It was twelve o'clock before he arrived.Nevertheless he wore a smile of placid ease of mind.His little wife had only to walk from the Plaza, it was true, but he knew, although a newly married man, that to be half an hour late was to be ten minutes early.
At exactly five minutes past twelve he saw her turn off the Avenue, and as he strolled along to meet her, charmed and delighted by her daintiness, proud and happy at his possession of her, he did a thing that all wise and tactful husbands do--he forced back an irresistible desire to be humorous at her expense and so won an entry of approval from the Recording Angel.
If they had both been punctual they would have seen Martin go off in his car to drive the girl who had had no luck to the trees and the wild flowers and the good green earth.
Joan's mother, all agog to see the young couple who had taken life into their own hands with the sublime faith of youth, had made it her first duty to call, however awkward and unusual the hour.Her choice of hats in which to do so had been a matter of the utmost importance.
They were told that Mr.Gray had gone out of town, that Mrs.Gray was not yet awake and followed the butler upstairs to the drawing-room with a distinct sense of disappointment.The room still quivered under the emotion of Gilbert Palgrave.
Rather awkwardly they waited to be alone.Butlers always appear to resent the untimely visitation of relations.Sunlight poured in through the windows.It was a gorgeous morning.
"Well," said George Harley, "I've seen my brokers and can do nothing more to-day.Let the child have her sleep out.I'm just as happy to be here with you, Lil, as anywhere else." And he bent over his wife as if he were her lover, as indeed he was, and kissed her pretty ear.His clothes were very new and his collar the shade of an inch too high for comfort and his patent leather shoes something on the tight side, but the spirits of the great lovers had welcomed him and were unafraid.
He won a most affectionate and grateful smile from the neat little lady whose brown hair was honestly tinged with white, and whose unlined face was innocent of make-up.Mrs.Harley had not yet recovered from her astonishment at having been swept to the altar after fifteen years of widowhood by this most simple and admirable man.Even then she was not quite sure that she was not dreaming all this.She patted his big hand and would have put her head aganst his chest if the brim of her hat had permitted her to do so.
"That's very sweet of you, Geordie," she said."How good you are to me."He echoed the word "Good!" and laughed and waved his hands.It was the gesture of a man whose choice of ready words was not large enough to describe all that he longed and tried to be to her.And then he stood back with his long legs wide apart and his large hands thrust into his pockets and his rather untidy gray head stuck on one side and studied her as if she were a picture in a gallery.He looked like a great big faithful St.Bernard dog.
Mrs.Harley didn't think so.He seemed to her to be the boy of whom she had dreamed in her first half-budding dreams and who had gone wandering and come under the hand of Time, but remained a boy in his heart.She was glad that she had made him change his tie.She loved those deep cuts in his face.
"Very well, then," she said."Although it is twelve o'clock I'll let her sleep another half an hour." And then she stopped with a little cry of dismay, "Let her!...I'm forgetting that it's no longer in my power to say what she's to do or not to do!""How's that?"
"She's no longer the young, big-eyed, watchful child who startled us by saying uncanny things.She's no longer the slip of a thing that Ileft with her grandparents, with her wistful eyes on the horizon.
She's a married woman, Geordie, with a house of her own, and it isn't for me to 'let' her do anything or tell her or even ask her.
She can do what she likes now.I've lost her, Geordie.""Why, how's that, Lil?" There was surprise as well as sympathy in Harley's voice.He had only known other people's children.
She went on quickly, with a queer touch of emotion."The inevitable change has come before I've had time to realize it.It's a shock.It takes my breath away.I feel as if I had been set adrift from an anchor.Instead of being my little girl she's my daughter now.I'm no longer 'mammy.' I'm mother.Isn't it,--isn't it wonderful? It's like standing under a mountain that's always seemed to be a little hill miles and miles away.From now on I shall be the one to be told to do things, I shall be the child to be kept in order.It's a queer moment in the life of a mother, Geordie."She laughed, but she didn't catch her tears before they were halfway down her cheeks."I'm an old lady, my dear."Harley gave one of his hearty, incredulous laughs."You, old.You're one of the everlasting young ones, you are, Lil," and he stood and beamed with love and admiration.
"But I've got you, Geordie," she added, and her surprised heart that had suddenly felt so empty warmed again and was soothed when he took her hand eagerly and pressed it to his lips.
