John withdrew his hand and clasped his bowed head.
“Day after tomorrow!” he repeated, almost groaning. “The day we were to see the sculptures!” He laughed bitterly.
“Don’t, John,” begged Nannie. “You frighten me.”
Again the two became silent.
“If only you weren’t the one to suffer!” Nannie exclaimed at last. “There is so much in our lives that is the same!”
“Yes, Nannie.”
“Your attitude toward Lucy is so noble, John! She doesn’t realize how much she has to be thankful for in your forbearance. Oh, John, to think that I should be in any way responsible, even innocently, for ruining your life!”
“You’re not responsible for what Lucy does, Nannie.”
“Oh, John, perhaps later—”
“Yes, yes!” he said eagerly.
“Maybe Lucy won’t always be so strange and exacting.”
Another pause.
“Nannie!” John’s voice was smothered and his breath came quickly. “If you’ll only cut out that talk about marrying! I can stand anything but that! I can’t stand it, Nannie. I can’t stand it! Say you’re not going to be married, Nannie?”
She did not answer at once.
“Not—right away, at least, dear boy,” she conceded finally, stroking his hair with her free hand.
John lifted his head and sighed deeply.
“Well, Nannie, if you really think it’s for the best, I suppose you’ll have to go, for the present, at least,” he resumed in a different tone.
“Don’t you want me to sing to you now, John?” Nannie offered, smiling bravely. “I’ll be too tired tomorrow night.”
“Yes, sing to me.”
Nannie sang “Ouvrez tes yeux.”
When Dr. Hamilton reached home he found Lucy and Dimmie still there. Dimmie was sound asleep. At Lucy’s request the Doctor picked the little boy up and carried him through the back way to the Winter home, delivering him into his mother’s arms at the kitchen door.
Lucy entered the house softly. As she mounted the stairs with her burden she saw John and Nannie in the living room. They did not observe her and she did not make her presence known.
It was late when they followed her. John found her door locked. All was dark and quiet. He slept in Jim’s room.
XXXII
“Shall I stay at home and help you with your trunks?” John offered at breakfast. He seemed depressed and addressed his remarks only to Nannie.
“No, thank you, John,” she replied. She gazed at him sympathetically. As a concession to unwontedly early rising she wore a beribboned negligee and a boudoir cap that was very becoming. “It’s so good and thoughtful of you to offer, but I can pack my things very well alone. But you mustn’t forget to send the express man out early this evening, for I don’t want any doubt about the baggage going on the same train with me.”
The two spoke as though they were alone. A perfect understanding seemed to exist between them. Lucy did not make a comment.
“Well, I’ll go to the office, then,” he decided, rising.
“It’s time for you to get ready, Dimmie.” Lucy turned to the little boy who sat beside her.
“Let him stay at home today, Lucy,” proposed Mrs. Merwent.
“Why, he oughtn’t to miss a day,” Lucy objected.
“Very well, if you dislike my seeing him my last day here!” Nannie assumed her most aggrieved air.
“Let him stay,” John ordered shortly.
“All right,” acquiesced Lucy without further discussion.
Nannie followed John to the front door where they held a whispered colloquy. When he had gone she went upstairs to begin her packing.
“Lucy!” she called after a few minutes.
Lucy came into the bedroom.
“Will you help me fold these things? I can’t do everything alone.”
“Of course,” Lucy responded impassively, beginning to arrange the garments indicated. “Where do you want them put?”
“Well, wait a minute. Give me time to turn around. Not that way, Lucy! If you’re going to mix things all up, you’d better leave it for me to do.” Mrs. Merwent’s tone showed increasing irritation. “I might have known you couldn’t bear to do anything for me. I ought to have learned that much this summer. I’ve learned several other things.”
“Tell me how you want them done, and I’ll do my best to please you.” Lucy’s manner was still composed.
“Oh, don’t try to be a martyr at this late hour, Lucy!” snapped Nannie. “It’s too transparent. You’ve gotten rid of me and so you can afford to be saintly about it. Your Mr. Sprague was very clever but I understand perfectly well now why you went to consult him.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Lucy gazed blankly at her mother.
“Oh, no! Of course you haven’t! You know a great deal better than I do. You needn’t lie to me.”
Lucy seemed scarcely to heed.
“Let’s not quarrel the last day we are together,” she said in a low voice.
“No, ‘let’s not quarrel,’ ” mocked Nannie. “Let’s sit here and have you crow over me.”
“How am I crowing over you?” Lucy inquired almost listlessly.
“You know just as well as I do,” accused Mrs. Merwent. “If you think I haven’t seen through the scheme you and your Mr. Sprague have worked from the very beginning, you’re greatly mistaken. But let me tell you one thing, Lucy. You haven’t got as much to feel jubilant over as you think you have.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” reiterated Lucy.
“Well, you’ll see what I mean.”
“You’re right that I have nothing to feel jubilant over.” Lucy lifted spiritless eyes to her mother’s face. Nannie turned away.
The two women worked for some time in silence.
“Here, you pack these wash things in the bottom of the other trunk. I want to go over my laces and see if they’re all here,” instructed Nannie at length. “I suppose Mr. Sprague will begin to come out here twice a week to spend the night again, as soon as I’ve left.”
“Please don’t talk about Mr. Sprague,” requested Lucy dully, beginning the work her mother had ordered.
Nannie’s expression was virtuous.
“Yes! I should think you’d be ashamed to talk about him,” she remarked reprovingly.
“I’m not
