Promise me tomorrow by Unknown Page B

the stairs.
    "Oh, Mr. McCandles," she began softly, "there you are. I think I should leave. I know you're upset with me, and I understand with the trouble you've had to go to. I think I should go ahead and eat something and catch the train today. It's still early, and I could be home tonight."
    "Katherine," Chase began, his voice very gentle, but she was not through.
    "I appreciate all you've done, Mr. McCandles, but if you'll just show me where the kitchen is, I'll eat and pack, and then only bother you one more time for a ride to the train station."
    "Did I tell you I sent a telegram to your parents?" Chase said suddenly.
    Rusty stared at him.
    "I also sent word to Paddy at the orphanage," Chase continued conversationally. "I apologize for not telling you. I wanted to let everyone know that the children were settled at the Davidsons', but that we'd run into a delay." He paused to see how she was taking his words. He had her attention, but she still looked uncertain. "I told your parents I would personally see you home on Friday, but if you want to go now, I'll take you. I'm sorry I made you feel as if you've been a bother. Nothing could be further from the truth."
    Rusty opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Maybe she wasn't as strong as she thought. She suddenly felt tired all over again. Even from the several feet that separated them, Chase could see the way she shook. This was all his fault. His heart clenched that his hospitality had been so poor. Moving carefully, he pulled an ornate chair away from the foyer wall so she could reach it. She sank down onto it gratefully.
    "I'm so sorry, Katherine. I'm sorry I made you feel unwelcome. "
    She looked up at him. "Nobody calls me Katherine."
    "I've been called a lot of things in my time, but never a nobody."
    It was just the light remark she needed. Laughing just a little, she glanced around the huge foyer.
    Chase watched her for a moment. "What would you like to do now?" he asked her.
    "Just sit, I think. Is it cold to you?"
    "Not really, but the vestibule is always drafty."
    Rusty turned to look toward the front door. It was some ways away, beyond an elaborate archway. She had never seen the like.
    "Why don't you come into the drawing room?" Chase offered. "The morning sun comes through the bay window. I think you'll find it much more comfortable."
    Rusty rose but not without effort. She wondered if once she got home she would have to spend the week in bed. Actually, with this delay she was no longer certain she still had a week.
    Chase led Rusty through a doorway right off the wide foyer. The young redhead was not prepared for the room she entered. It was huge and absolutely beautiful. She would have exclaimed over it in her usual exuberant manner, but for the moment she just wanted to stay on her feet.
    "Here you go," Chase encouraged. His tone was normal, but he was very worried. "Why don't you get comfortable here?" He directed her to a large, overstuffed chair. Chase noticed she was still trembling.
    "I think you need a quilt," he said as she sank into the cushions. Mrs. Whitley, who had been hovering in the background since she had seen Rusty in the foyer, came forward, a thick comforter in her hand. She had grabbed it from a closet under the stairs when she heard Rusty asking Chase if it was cold.
    "Here we go." Chase tucked the throw around his houseguest.
    "Did you say you'd written to my parents?" Rusty asked, her face anxious. "You told them I was all right?"
    "Absolutely."
    "Thank you, Mr. McCandles."
    "You're very welcome. Now, would you like something hot to drink?"
    Relief covered her face. "That sounds good."
    "Coffee? Tea?"
    Rusty looked uncertain.
    "Hot cocoa?"
    Again the look of relief. "Yes, please, but I don't need anyone to wait on me, Mr. McCandles. I can go to the kitchen and prepare it.
    Chase sat on the ottoman at her feet, effectively blocking her into the chair. He bent his long legs and casually put his forearms on his knees. Rusty