Part 4 (2/2)

Queer that any one should be calling him ”Loosh”--any one down here in... Eh? Where was he? He couldn't remember much except that he was very tired--except--

”Loos.h.!.+ Looshy! Come Looshy!”

He staggered to his feet and, leaving the suitcase where it was, stumbled away in the direction of the voice. The rain, pouring down upon him, served to bring him back a little nearer to reality. Wasn't that a light over there, that bright yellow spot in the fog?

It was a light, a lighted doorway, with a human figure standing in it.

The figure of a woman, a woman in a dark dress and a white ap.r.o.n. It must be she who was calling him. Yes, she was calling him again.

”Loos.h.!.+ Loos.h.!.+ Looshy! Oh, my sakes alive! Why don't you come?”

Mr. Bangs b.u.mped into something. It was a gate in a picket fence and the gate swung open. He staggered up the path on the other side of that gate, the path which led to the doorway where the woman was standing.

”Yes, madam,” said Galusha, politely but shakily lifting the brown derby, ”here I am.”

The woman started violently, but she did not run nor scream.

”My heavens and earth!” she exclaimed. Then, peering forward, she stared at the dripping apparition which had appeared to her from the fog and rain.

”Here I am, madam,” repeated Mr. Bangs.

The woman nodded. She was middle-aged, with a pleasant face and a figure of the sort which used to be called ”comfortable.” Her manner of looking and speaking were quick and businesslike.

”Yes,” she said, promptly, ”I can see you are there, so you needn't tell me again. WHY are you there and who are you?”

Galusha's head was spinning dizzily, but he tried to make matters clear.

”My name is--is--Dear me, how extraordinary! I seem to have forgotten it. Oh, yes, it is Bangs--that is it, Bangs. I heard you calling me, so--”

”Heard ME calling YOU?”

”Yes. I--I came down to the hotel--the rest--Rest--that hotel over there. It was closed. I sat down upon the porch, for I have been ill recently and I--ah--tire easily. So, as I say--”

The woman interrupted him. She had been looking keenly at his face as he spoke.

”Come in. Come into the house,” she commanded, briskly.

Mr. Bangs took a step toward her. Then he hesitated.

”I--I am very wet, I'm afraid,” he said. ”Really, I am not sure that--”

”Rubbis.h.!.+ It's because you are wet--wet as a drowned rat--that I'm askin' you to come in. Come now--quick.”

Her tone was not unkind, but it was arbitrary.

Galusha made no further protest. She held the door open and he preceded her into a room, then into another, this last evidently a sitting room.

He was to know it well later; just now he was conscious of little except that it was a room--and light--and warm--and dry.

”Sit down!” ordered his hostess.

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