"I like what I don't understand. It's the finding out is the fun." Louise looked mutinous.
"Louise, I don't know if it's a compliment to either of us--but I believe we're very much alike."
Louise gave a child's delighted chuckle, but she showed no surprise.
"That's nice, Miss Hartill." She hesitated. "Miss Hartill, did you know my Mother?"
"No one does. There are no pictures. Father was angry when I asked about her once: and Miss Murgatroyd--she was our governess--she said I had no tact. I miss her, you know, though I don't remember her. I had a nurse: she told me a little. Mother had grey eyes too, you know," said Louise, gazing into Clare's. "I expect she was rather like you."
She watched Clare a little breathlessly. There was more of tenderness in her face than many who thought they knew Clare Hartill would have credited, but no hint of awakening memory, of the recognition the child sought. She went on--
"People never come back when they're dead, do they?" She had no idea of the longing in her voice.
"No, you poor baby!" Clare rose hastily and began to walk up and down the room, as her fashion was when she was stirred.
"'_Stieg je ein Freund Dir aus dem Grabe wieder?_'" murmured Clare.
Louise's thistledown fancies were scattered by her tone. Impossible to discredit any statement of Miss Hartill's. Yet she protested timidly.
"There was the Witch of Endor, Miss Hartill. Samuel, you know."
"Is that Meredith?" said Clare absently. Then she caught Louise's expression. "What's the matter?"
"But it's the Bible!" cried Louise horrified.
Clare sat down again and began to laugh pleasantly.
"What am I to do with you, Louise? Are you five or fifty? You want to discuss Meredith with me--(not that I shall let you, my child--don't think I approve of all this reading--I did it myself at your age, you see) and five minutes later you look at me round-eyed because I've forgotten my Joshua or my Judges! Kings? I beg your pardon; Kings be it! Never mind, Louise. Tell me about the Witch of Endor."
"Only that she called up Samuel, I meant, from the dead."
Louise was evidently abstracted; she was picking her words.
"Don't you believe it, Miss Hartill, quite?"
"It's the Old Testament, after all," temporised Clare. She began to see Louise's difficulty. She had no beliefs herself but she thought she would find out how fourteen handled the problem.