Orde's bank account, in spite of his laughing assertion to Newmark,
contained some eleven hundred dollars. After a brief but
comprehensive tour of inspection over all the works then forward, he
drew a hundred of this and announced to Newmark that business would
take him away for about two weeks.

"I have some private affairs to attend to before settling down to
business for keeps," he told Newmark vaguely.

At Redding, whither he went to pack his little sole-leather trunk,
he told Grandma Orde the same thing. She said nothing at the time,
but later, when Grandpa Orde's slender figure had departed, very
courteous, very erect, very dignified, with its old linen duster
flapping around it, she came and stood by the man leaning over the
trunk.

"Speak to her, Jack," said she quietly. "She cares for you."

Orde looked up in astonishment, but he did not pretend to deny the
implied accusation as to his destination.

"Why, mother!" he cried. "She's only seen me three or four times!
It's absurd--yet."

"I know," nodded Grandma Orde, wisely. "I know. But you mark my
words; she cares for you."

She said nothing more, but stood looking while Orde folded and laid
away, his head bent low in thought. Then she placed her hand for an
instant on his shoulder and went away. The Ordes were not a