Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/48

38 you'd think I was putting you in an institution." And a little later he sang out cheerfully, "Here we are at the prison-gates!" and turned the car in between two cement posts, partly ivy-covered, and up a short curving drive.

The house was cement, and partly ivy-covered, too, like the posts. It was set low, seemed to cling to the ground, and the close-cropped lawn ran right up to long French windows on either side of the front door.

The French windows were open, and from out of one of them stepped Mrs. Morrison. She waved her hand at Stephen and Laurel, and called out in a high pretty voice, "Hello!" then walked rapidly towards the approaching car to meet it.

Laurel noticed that she was dressed in an ordinary white skirt and outing waist, and wore tennis shoes. She was at the door of the car when it stopped, and, before Laurel's father had a chance to open it, she had stretched out her arm in front of him—ignoring him completely—grasped one of Laurel's hands, and was saying in the lovely voice Laurel remembered, "Hello, Laurel." She said "Laurel," not "Laurrul"—like most people. Her voice was like a bell. "I'm ever so glad to see you. I've been waiting and waiting for you. Get out, dear. Let her out, Stephen." She hadn't paid any attention to Stephen till then. "Your trunk has come," she said, still addressing Laurel, still ignoring her father—or almost, for she flung him only the briefest little "Hello," as he stepped out of the automobile beside her—"and for the last hour I've been thinking you yourself were coming every time I heard a horn blowing outside our drive."