THE HONOR GIRL by Grace Livingston Hill Read Free Book Online Page B

saw a bus drawing up to the curb and her two brothers in working-garb getting out. They must be working over at the locomotive works.
    She turned and fled to the kitchen. There was time to get the roast on the table. She flew to the table with the platter. A glance from the window showed her that her brothers were pausing to talk with one of the men who got off the bus. She could bring the succotash and perhaps the gravy.
    As she set down the gravy boat, she saw they were to come in. One more trip with the potatoes! She could risk it, for they had to unlock the door yet, and they might not find the potatoes till after dinner if she didn’t put them on the table. The coffee she could leave on the stove, for they would smell it.
    As she paused to turn the gas jet low under the coffeepot, she heard the key grate in the lock, and she fled precipitately out the back door into the laundry, closing it noiselessly behind her. She put on her hat with trembling hands. Picking up her bag, she tiptoed down the back steps, pulling the door softly shut behind her, and slid around at the side under the old cherry tree where no one could see her. She could hear the trolley car almost here now. She must hide until it had passed, and then run down the side street a few steps and cross over where she would not be noticed.
    With the dress held back she peeked cautiously around the corner of the kitchen. The trolley car was stopping. Yes, her father was getting out. The conductor was steadying him as he went down the steps, as if he were old or sick. Ah! Did he stagger as he went out toward the curb? Her heart sank heavily. She watched with straining eyes. He was coming up the gravel walk, slowly, dejectedly, as if he did not care, with uneven steps, as if his mind were not on his walking.
    With something like a sob in her throat the girl turned in panic, and fled noiselessly over the long, matted grass to the side street. She half expected them to come out after her, and walked almost halfway down the block before she dared look back to see that no one was following. Then simultaneously she heard the distant whir of the returning trolley car, and realized that she must hasten if she would get back to the corner before it reached there. She crossed the street and hurried along, keeping well in the shadow of the hedges, and scarcely daring to look toward her home lest some one should be watching for her and recognize her.
    But the house was very quiet. A sudden fear gripped her heart lest they should not discover the dinner before it grew cold; but the trolley was almost at hand. She could not linger to see. Then, as she turned to step out and signal the car, she saw a light flash up in the dining-room, and two—or was it three?—dim figures standing motionless in the middle of the room. Just that brief glimpse she caught as she climbed into the trolley and was whirled away cityward.

Chapter 5
    I t was Eugene who unlocked the front door and entered first. Jack lingered with a wistful look behind him at the sunset. Every night it was the same. Jack dreaded to enter that drear abode. He delayed the sight of the desolation as long as possible, and once inside the door put on a gruff, surly attitude toward everything, ate what supper he could get together in silence, made a frantic toilet in his cluttered room, and hastened away to spend the hours of leisure in whatever festivity presented itself in the dull little suburb.
    Sometimes when Jack was feeling very lonely at the thought of the house and the dreary life they lived, especially when there were low gray clouds in the west and there was no sunset, he would think of his mother’s coffin there in the parlor as it had been five years ago. He could press his eyelids and bring back the white still features and the sweet young look that was not she, but some bright thing related to her and reminding of her, so far, so very far away! At such times Jack was fairly savage, and often went off without