his grin again. "Okay!" he said, pulling himself together. "Where's yer packages?"
"Oh yes. Right here by the dining room door. All of them."
"And you want these here things all prepaid, you said, didn't you? Okay. You can stop by the office and settle the bill when you come downtown again. I'll have 'em weighed and be ready for you."
Dale drew a breath of relief as she watched the truck drive away. Now, no matter when Aunt Blanche and Corliss came, there wouldn't be anything for them to question about. Grandmother had made it quite plain that they would likely resent her giving anything away before they arrived, if there was any evidence around that it had been done.
So Dale was free now to go about the arrangements for the day and her undesired guests, realizing that she was going to need great patience and strength before this visit was over.
Hattie was in the kitchen, Dale knew. Dear old Hattie, who loved Grandmother so much and whose lifework from now on was merely to be transferred to the granddaughter whom Grandmother had loved so well.
Hattie had had experience in former years with the coming relatives and would know how to deal with them. Grandmother had talked it all over with Hattie and prepared her, made sure that she fully understood and could arrange an adjustable firmness, with courtesy, so that no clashing would be necessary. But when Dale came into the kitchen and found Hattie standing disconsolately looking out the window into the kitchen garden, the old woman said sorrowfully, "I dunno, I dunno, Miss Dale! Grandma said I was to be real sweet and polite and not stir up no strife. But if you had knowed them people the way I did, you'd know that wasn't just physically possible. I'd like to carry out your grandma's wishes, an' I'm sure I'll do my best, but I know I can't really do it. I've tried before and it didn't work, and I don't seem to believe it'll work this time, but I'll do my best."
"Why, of course you will, Hattie. You'll be all right. And don't you worry about it. If they say anything you don't like, just put it aside and don't think about it."
"Yes," sighed Hattie, "that's what Grandma advised me. She said I was to remember that the Lord was listening to me, and He would know what was going on and would be expecting me to act to please Him, not them."
"That's right, Hattie," said Dale with a little tender smile on her sweet lips.
"Miss Dale, if that's so, and the Lord can watch an' see what I do, do you s'pose perhaps Grandma can see, too? If I thought she would be watching I could do a great deal better."
Dale smiled.
"Why yes, Hattie, perhaps she will be able to see. I think it would help us both to think of her watching, and I'm sure the Lord will care and will be watching and be pleased if we do the right kindly thing."
"Okay, Miss Dale, I'll remember that. I'll do my best to please the Lord, and her!"
It was a busy morning after that. There were orders to give, telephone calls to answer, telegrams and letters to read, and the dinner to plan for the possible guests that evening. There were callers to meet, old friends of Grandmother's to talk to, a hundred and one questions to answer. The minister came to talk over the arrangements that Grandmother had made with him. There were flowers to receive and arrange for keeping, and there were tender, precious messages from friends. Everybody had loved Grandmother for years, and she was going to be greatly missed.
Then suddenly, late in the afternoon, when the company dinner was beginning to give off delicious odors, there was a stir in the street, and a taxi pulled up at the door ostentatiously. They had come! The waiting was over.
Dale cast a quick look out the door, caught a glimpse of a golden-haired, haughty girl with very red lips, and drew a deep breath to quiet the sudden thumping of her heart. She knew that it would not do to yield to excitement, for if she did there would be no poise and no quiet dignity in her meeting with her guests, and she must remember what Grandmother had desired.
With another deep breath and a lifting of her heart for help above, she went to the door with the nearest to a real welcome in her eyes that she could summon. She came down the walk to the little old-fashioned white gate to meet them.
Aunt Blanche was having an argument with the taxi driver about the fare and didn't notice her at first, and Corliss, who was engaged in gazing around at the neighborhood, did not at first see her either.
But finally the aunt finished her argument with a sharp bit of sarcasm and flung herself out to stand on the pavement and look around.
"Oh, is that you, Dale?" she said as she almost tripped over her niece. "Why, you've grown tall, haven't you? I expected to find you short and fat the way you used to be."
Dale had been prepared to greet her aunt with a brief kiss, but it appeared the aunt had made no provision for such a salutation, so she contented herself with a brief handshake and turned to Corliss.
But Corliss was standing there staring at her. Apparently for some reason she was not at all what Corliss had expected, and it required some adjusting of her preconceived ideas to help her correlate the facts. It had not yet entered her mind that any form of definite greeting would be required between them, so Corliss took no notice of Dale's smile or the hand held out in greeting. She simply stared.
And behind her loomed a boy whom she knew must be Corliss's younger brother, Powelton. How cross he looked! Such frowning brows! She sensed on the boy's lips the grim distaste for the errand on which they had come. She tried to reassure him by smiling, but he only summoned a wicked grin.
Dale spoke pleasantly. "You are Powelton, aren't you?" she said with real welcome in her voice. "I haven't seen you since you were a baby."
"Aw, ferget it!" said the insolent youth. "Just call me Pow. That's what I prefer."
"Now, Powelton!" reproached his mother. "You promised me——"
"Yes, I know, Mom," said the boy, "but that was when you said there was going to be a lawyer here. You can't make anything out of this little dump, I'm telling ya!"
"Powelton! Be still! Driver, you can bring the luggage into the house."
"No ma'am, I can't! I ain't doing that no more. These is wartimes, and I can't take the time to lug in suitcases. I put 'em on the sidewalk and you can lug 'em in yourself, or let that spoiled boy o' yours do it. I gotta get back to the station. I'm overdue already." And he started his car defiantly.
"Oh, we can manage the luggage," said Dale pleasantly, gathering up three of the smaller bags. "Come on, boys and girls; each of you gather up a handful and we'll soon be all right."
The annoyed aunt stood in their midst and protested, but Dale had started on with her load of bags, and there was nothing for the rest to do but follow.
As they came up the steps to the white doorway, the boy flicked his cap over the exquisite, delicate lilies that were fastened to the doorbell.
"Why the weeds?" he said contemptuously, turning a sneering glance at Dale.
"Oh, please don't!" she said, planting herself in the way of a second thrust of the ruthless cap.
"Well, of all the silly customs," sneered the young man. "Mom, I wouldn't stand for that if I were you. Tying a whole flower garden on the house we're expected to stay in all night."
Dale took a deep breath and tried to summon a calm expression. "Take the suitcases into the living room," she said quietly. "Put them right on the floor by the door and then we can easily sort them out for the different rooms."
"Okay!" said the lad disagreeably, and he dropped the luggage he was carrying and turned to walk into the living room and look around. "Some dump!" he commented disagreeably, casting a contemptuous look at the old steel engravings and ancestral portraits. He gave a semblance of a kick toward the fine old polished mahogany sofa with its well-preserved haircloth upholstery.
But Dale paid no attention to him. She put down the bags she was carrying and hurried out to the walk to get more, though she noticed that nobody else was like-minded, for they were surging into the house and staring around.
"Heavens,