She was watching Westerfelt, who had
suddenly moved to the bed and sat down. When she spoke she directed
her explanation to Bradley rather than to his wife.
"Mother and I thought Mr. Westerfelt ought not to stay here alone, and
that we'd get him to come over to the room he had in the hotel; so we--"
"You an' yore mother hain't knowed 'im sence he wus knee-high like me
an' Luke has," jealously retorted Mrs. Bradley. "I reckon it's time we
wus givin' the boy a little attention. We've got the buggy down thar
waitin', John, an' a hot breakfast ready at home. I won't stand no
refusal. You jest got to come with us; you needn't make no excuse."
"I'm not sick," answered Westerfelt, with a faint smile. He glanced at
Harriet. With an unsteady step she was moving away. He wanted to call
to her, but the presence of the others sealed his lips. She turned out
into the semi-darkness of the loft, and then they heard her descending
the stairs.
The sun was rising as she went back to the hotel. No one was in the
parlor. She entered it and closed the door after her.
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