"Oh!" Kirk cried suddenly. "Oh, I'm happy! Aren't you, Mr. Martin?"
Martin looked down at the eager, joyous face, so expressive in spite of the blankness behind the eyes. His own face filled suddenly with a new light, and he put out his hands as if he were about to catch Kirk to him. But the moment passed; the reserve of long years, which he could not in an instant push from him, settled again in his angular face. He clasped his hands behind him.
"Yes," said Martin, briefly, "I'm happy."
Mrs. Sturgis stepped eagerly off the twelve-five train on to the Bedford Station platform, and stood looking expectantly about her. A few seconds later Ken came charging through the crowd from the other end of the platform. They held each other for a moment at arms' length, in the silent, absorbing welcome when words seem insufficient; then Kenelm picked up his mother's bag and tucked her hand through his arm.
"Now don't get a cab, or anything," Mrs. Sturgis begged. "I can perfectly well walk to the street-car--or up to the house, for that matter. Oh, I'm so much, much better."
"Well," Ken said, "I thought we'd have a little something to eat first, and then--"
"But we'll have lunch as soon as we get home, dear. What--"
"Well, the fact is," Ken said hastily, "you see we're not at Westover Street just now. We've been staying in the country for a while, at the jolliest old place, and, er--they want you to come up there for a while, too."
Ken had been planning different ways of telling his mother of the passing of the Westover Street house, all the way down from Asquam. He could not, now, remember a single word of all those carefully thought out methods of approach.
"I don't think I quite understand," Mrs. Sturgis said. "Are you staying with friends? I didn't know we knew any one in the country."
They were in the middle of the street, and Ken chose to focus his attention on the traffic.
"Let's get to the lunch place," he said. "It's quieter there, to talk."
"Still wearing that old suit, dear?" Mrs. Sturgis said, touching Ken's sleeve as he hung up his overcoat in the restaurant.
"Er--this is my good suit," Ken murmured. "That is, it's the only suit I have--that is--"
"See here," said Mrs. Sturgis, whose perceptions were beginning to quicken as she faced a member of her family again with the barrier of cautious letters thrown aside; "there's been _enough_ money, hasn't there?"