The infrequently patronized portal of the Spence mansion, it proved,
was so securely barred and bolted that to unfasten it necessitated no
little time and patience; even after locks and fastenings had been
withdrawn and the door was at liberty to move, not knowing what to do
with its unaccustomed freedom it refused to stir, stubbornly resisting
every attempt to wrench its hinges asunder. It was not until the man
and woman inside had combined their efforts and struggled with it for
quite an interval that it contrived to creak apart far enough to reveal
through a four-inch crack the figure of a young man who was standing
patiently outside.
One could not have asked for a franker, merrier face than that which
peered at Celestina through the narrow chink of sunshine. To judge at
random the visitor had come into his manhood recently, for the brown
eyes were alight with youthful humor and the shoulders unbowed by the
burdens of the world. He had a mass of wavy, dark hair; a thoughtful
brow; ruddy color; a pleasant mouth and fine teeth; and a tall, erect
figure which he bore with easy grace.
"Is Miss Morton at home?" he asked, smiling at Celestina through the
shaft of golden light.
Celestina hesitated. So seldom was she addressed by this formal
pseudonym that for the instant she was compelled to stop and consider
whether the individual designated was on the premises or not.
"Y--e--s," she at last admitted feebly.
"I wonder if I might speak with her," the stranger asked.
"Why don't you tell him you're Miss Morton," coached Willie, in a loud
whisper.
But the man on the steps had heard.
"You're not Miss Morton, are you?" he essayed, "Miss Celestina Morton?"
"I expect I am," owned Celestina nervously.
"I'm your brother Elnathan's boy, Bob."
Celestina crumpled weakly against the door frame.
"Nate's boy!" she repeated. "Bless my soul! Bless my soul an' body!"
The man outside laughed a delighted laugh so infectious that before
Celestina or Willie were conscious of it they had joined in its mellow
ripple. After that everything was easy.
"We can't open the door to let you in," explained Willie, peering out
through the rift, "'cause this blasted door ain't moved fur so long
that its hinges have growed together; but if you'll come round to the
back of the house you'll find a warmer welcome."
The guest nodded and disappeared.
"Land alive, Willie!" ejaculated Celestina while they struggled to
replace the dislocated bars and bolts. "To think of Nate's boy
appearin' here! I can't get over it! Nate's boy! Nate was my
favorite brother, you know--the littlest one, that I brought up from
babyhood. This lad is so completely the livin' image of him that when
I clapped eyes on him it took the gimp clear out of me. It was like
havin' Nate himself come back again."
With fluttering eagerness she sped through the hall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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