All Through the Night (Musaicum Romance Classics). Grace Livingston Hill
like having the family visible. We may be able to make some money out of this. You'll be glad of that, I know. And if there is any money, we don't intend to be cheated out of it. I'm quite certain that your father told me he had furnished the money to buy this house for his mother, and if that's true, the house is mine."
"But I heard Dale say it was hers."
"It doesn't matter what she said. She's probably made that story up herself, or else Grandmother has told her some fairy tales. Of course even Grandmother may not have known where she got the house. She may have thought it was from both brothers, but I've always heard that Dale's father was sort of a ne'er-do-well. I really never knew him, you know. He went overseas before we were married and just before your father went, and Dale's father never came back. He was killed, you know."
Just then there was the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, several people, and Dale's voice could be heard gently. Aunt Blanche stopped talking and sat up abruptly.
"Now, we'll see," she murmured in a low voice to her children, and promptly there was an arrogant question in the very atmosphere, so that it was almost visible to the neighbors who came slowly down the stairs and out to the porch.
The neighbors lingered several minutes on the porch, just last tender words about the woman they loved who was gone from their midst. Aunt Blanche and her children, in spite of their avid curiosity, grew more impatient before the last kindly woman said good night and went out the little white gate.
Then Aunt Blanche, without waiting for them to get beyond earshot, rose to her feet and pinned Dale with a cold glance from her unfriendly eyes. "And now, if you have got through with all the riffraff of neighbors that seem to have so much more importance in your eyes than your own blood relations, just what are you going to do with us?"
Dale turned troubled eyes toward them. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said gently. "I suppose you are tired after your journey. Would you like to go up to your rooms now?"
"No!" screamed Corliss with one of those piercing shrieks with which she had lorded it over her family since she was born. "No! I will not sleep in this house, not with a dead person here! My mother knows I won't do that! Not ever!"
"Well, in that case, what do you want to do? Go to a hotel? I didn't know you hadn't already arranged to do that. Of course you knew I wasn't able to get away just then."
"I don't see why!" said her aunt sharply. "I should think guests in your house would be of the first consideration. But I don't suppose you've had the advantage of being brought up to know good manners from bad ones and ought to be excused on that score. But how would you suppose I could do anything about a hotel? I don't know any hotels around here."
"I'm sorry," said Dale again, "but I thought you would probably ask Hattie about them. She would know, and any hotel in this region would be all right, of course, provided you could get in. You know, this region is rather full of defense workers, and most hotels and boardinghouses are full to overflowing, just now in wartime."
"So you would expect me to go to a servant for information, would you? Well, that is another evidence of your crude manners. However, now you are here, what are you going to do with us?"
"Well, what would you like me to do? Your rooms are all in readiness upstairs, of course, and since you do not choose to occupy them, I wouldn't know just what to do. Would you like me to order a taxi to take you around to the different hotels, to see if you can find a more desirable place for the night?"
"No, certainly not," said the irate aunt. "After I've come a long journey, I'm not going around hunting a place to stay. I'm too tired for that. I think it's up to you to find me a place."
"I'm afraid I don't think so," said Dale firmly but pleasantly. "However, I'll be glad to call up and inquire whether there is room anywhere. I can call the Oxford Hotel. It's rather expensive, but it would be very nice, if they still have room. And being expensive they might be more likely to have a room left. Or would you rather I try the cheaper places first?"
"I should think that would be entirely up to you, whatever you want to pay. We are your guests, you know."
Dale stared at her aunt in slow comprehension. "Oh, I see," she said slowly. "Well, I don't see that it's my affair at all. If you are my guests, you will occupy the rooms I have arranged for you. But since they do not suit you, I think the choice would be all your own. I couldn't afford to pay hotel bills, you know."
"Then you could have sent for the undertaker and had Grandma taken away. It isn't too late to do that now."
"No," said Dale, "I can't do that. But if you won't stay here, I can call up and find out if there are any accommodations left anywhere. Or, if you and Powelton are satisfied to stay here, I can ask one of the neighbors to take in Corliss. The old lady who just went away asked if she could do anything for me. She has a little hall bedroom that is plain but immaculate, where I think Corliss could be very comfortable. I could call and ask her. Would you like that, Corliss?"
"Me? Go alone to some little old stranger's house? Not on yer life!" said Corliss hatefully.
Dale gave her a steady look and then turned into the house and went to the telephone, followed by the three guests.
"What are you doing to do?" asked Corliss impertinently. "You needn't think you can force me into anything like this. I'll scream! I'll make a scene! You haven't really heard me scream yet!"
Dale did not answer. Instead she called the number of the Oxford Hotel and asked for the manager, while the three invaders stood in a semicircle around her belligerently. Dale, as she caught a glimpse of their three unpleasant faces, could not help thinking what a contrast they were to the sweet, placid face lying upstairs with the glory of heaven upon it.
A few clear-cut questions she asked, showing that she was well versed in making business arrangements. "You have a room? Only one room? What floor is that on? The second floor? What price? Ten dollars a day? Is there a double bed? Twin beds, you say? And where would the young man sleep? The fifth floor, you say? A small hall bedroom? Five dollars a day. Oh, you say there is another larger room on the fifth next to the small one? The price is seven-fifty a day? Thank you. The lady will probably be around there to look at them. Yes, it's a lady and her daughter and son." Dale turned. "You heard what he said, didn't you? Would that be satisfactory, or do you wish me to ask at other places?"
"Yes," said Aunt Blanche. "It's best to find out what is available. Yes, call up three or four more hotels."
Dale smiled. "I'm afraid I don't know that many hotels anywhere near here. There is the Longworth and the Kenmore. No others this side of the city. Unless of course you want to go all the way in town, and that would cost you a good deal in taxi fares."
Dale turned back to the telephone and called up the Longworth but was told curtly that they had no available room at any price. Then she tried the Kenmore and found one large double room, where a cot could be put in for the young brother.
Dale gave the result briefly and then said, "Now, please excuse me a minute while I talk with Hattie. There are some plans for to-morrow she will be waiting to know, and you can talk this over and see what you want to do. When I come back I'll call a taxi for you."
Then Dale vanished into the kitchen.
"The very idea!" said the indignant aunt. "Well, I guess she'll find she'll have to pay for this. I'll have all bills sent to her."
Dale returned and ordered the taxi. She was relieved to get her unaccommodating guests off finally and be alone in the quiet of her sorrow.
"They ain't no kind of relatives for a dear lady like our Grandma to have," grumbled Hattie as she locked the back door and turned out the kitchen light. "I'm right glad they're outta the house, so I am, and I wish they didn't have to come back. They don't care nothing about her—just what they can get out of it!"
"Well there, Hattie, don't let's think such thoughts about them. That wouldn't please Grandmother, and I'm quite sure it won't make it any easier to get along with them while they are here."
"Yeah. I know that. But human nature can't stand everything,