174
Tamawaca Folks
"There's no question about it. Go now."
Jim hesitated.
"I said I'd never darken his doors again, you know," he intimated, weakly.
"These are not his doors. It's Grant's cottage."
"So it is. Well, I'll go."
He pulled his hat down over his ears desperately, buttoned his coat in spite of the heat, and with tense muscles but trembling lips marched up the hill to the Grant cottage.
Before he could knock the door flew open and he was in his mother's arms. The poor lady was sobbing with joy, and led her errant son into the room where his father sat propped with cushions in an easy chair.
"Here's Jim!" she said, trembling with uncertainty and a well founded fear of the interview to follow.
Mr. Everton looked at his boy and nodded.
