Page:The Star in the Window.pdf/263

Rh When a light did appear ahead of her at last, gleaming dimly but steadily, she hurried eagerly toward it. It was with a wave of thanksgiving that she read beneath the light, "Grand Hotel. Rooms and lodging. Open all the year." True, the part of the hotel that the light illuminated was anything but "grand." The few wooden steps that led to its front door were worn and very shabby, and the railing that ran along what was supposed to represent a veranda was in a disreputable state of unrepair. Still, it did offer a roof, and there was a light not only over the door, but also shining in two or three of its windows.

Reba mounted the steps. As she did so, she heard a loud raucous laugh from within—a man's laugh, followed by the high shrill cackle of a woman. Looking through the open door of the "Grand Hotel," Reba saw near the end of its dimly lighted corridor a sign protruding, reading, "Bar." She hesitated, turning toward the dark road again. It was raining in earnest now. She caught the first low rumble of thunder.

"Oh, I can't! I can't go out into that again," she whispered, and turned toward the entrance of the Grand Hotel.

Before rapping on the loose-jointed screen-door, however, Reba armored herself as best she knew how. Recalling her wedding-ring in the bottom of her shopping-bag, she took it out, and slipped it onto the third finger of her left hand.

A very large fat man in shirtsleeves, holding aloft a small old-fashioned kerosene lamp, responded to Reba's rap. He came out of the bar-room, and standing under the sign that designated it, called out gruffly, toward the front door, "Anybody there?"