Basil Everman

Richard Lister's mother stood at the head of the stairs and called a little impatiently. She was a large, middle-aged woman who looked older than she was in the black silk dress and bonnet with strings which was the church- and party-going costume of women of her years and time. Middle age had not yet begun to dress in light colors and flowery hats like youth. When, above the sound of a tinkling piano, a young voice answered, "I'm coming!" she returned to her room, without expecting, howeve...