The Yates Pride | Page 9

for a life-long dweller in any place to judge of change.
It is for the one who goes and returns after many years."

There was a faint hint of proud sadness in Eudora's voice as she spoke
the last two words.
"It has been many years," said Lawton, gravely, "and I wonder if it has
seemed so to you."
Eudora held her head proudly. "Time passes swiftly," said she, tritely.
"But sometimes it may seem long in the passing, however swift," said
Lawton, "though I suppose it has not to you. You look just the same,"
he added, regarding her admiringly.
Eudora flushed a little. "I must be changed," she murmured.
"Not a bit. I would have known you anywhere. But I--"
"I knew you the minute you spoke."
"Did you?" he asked, eagerly. "I was afraid I had grown so stout you
would not remember me at all. Queer how a man will grow stout. I am
not such a big eater, either, and I have worked hard, and--well, I might
have been worse off, but I must say I have seen men who seemed to me
happier, though I have made the best of things. I always did despise a
flunk. But you! I heard you had adopted a baby," he said, with a sudden
glance at the blue and white bundle in the carriage, "and I thought you
were mighty sensible. When people grow old they want young people
growing around them, staffs for old age, you know, and all that sort of
thing. Don't know but I should have adopted a boy myself if it hadn't
been for --"
The man stopped, and his face was pink. Eudora turned her face
slightly away.
"By the way," said the man, in a suddenly hushed voice, "I suppose the
kid you've got there is asleep. Wouldn't do to wake him?"
"I think I had better not," replied Eudora, in a hesitating voice. She
began to walk along, and Harry Lawton fell into step beside her.

"I suppose it isn't best to wake up babies; makes them cross, and they
cry," he said. "Say, Eudora, is he much trouble?"
"Very little," replied Eudora, still in that strange voice.
"Doesn't keep you awake nights?"
"Oh no."
"Because if he does, I really think you should have a nurse. I don't
think you ought to lose sleep taking care of him."
"I do not."
"Well, I was mighty glad when I heard you had adopted him. I suppose
you made sure about his parentage, where he hailed from and what sort
of people?"
"Oh yes." Eudora was very pale.
"That's right. Maybe some time you will tell me all about it. I am
coming over Thursday to have a look at the youngster. I have to go to
the city on business to-morrow and can't get back until Thursday. I was
coming over to-night to call on you, but I have a man coming to the inn
this evening--he called me up on the telephone just now--one of the
men who have taken my place in the business; and as long as I have
met you I will just walk along with you, and come Thursday. I suppose
the baby won't be likely to wake up just yet, and when he does you'll
have to get his supper and put him to bed. Is that the way the rule
goes?"
Eudora nodded in a shamed, speechless sort of way.
"All right. I'll come Thursday -but say, look here, Eudora. This is a
quiet road, not a soul in sight, just like an outdoor room to ourselves.
Why shouldn't I know now just as well as wait? Say, Eudora, you know
how I used to feel about you. Well, it has lasted all these years. There
has never been another woman I even cared to look at. You are alone,

except for that baby, and I am alone. Eudora --"
The man hesitated. His flushed face had paled. Eudora paced silently
and waveringly at his side.
"Eudora," the man went on, "you know you always used to run away
from me--never gave me a chance to really ask; and I thought you
didn't care. But somehow I have wondered--perhaps because you never
got married--if you didn't quite mean it, if you didn't quite know your
own mind. You'll think I'm a conceited ass, but I'm not a bad sort,
Eudora. I would be as good to you as I know how, and--we could bring
him up together." He pointed to the carriage. "I have plenty of money.
We could do anything we wanted to do for him, and we should not
have to live alone. Say, Eudora, you may not think it's the thing for a
man to own up to, but, hang it all!