And the dinner wore to an end. Then came the moment when the girl and she must meet under the eyes of the mother, and that sharp, quaint-looking old governess. It would be a hard moment, that! And it came—a hard moment and a long one, for Gordy sat full span over his wine. But Anna had not served her time beneath the gaze of upper Oxford for nothing; she managed to be charming, full of interest and questions in her still rather foreign accent. Miss Doone—soon she became Sylvia—must show her all the treasures and antiquities. Was it too dark to go out just to look at the old house by night? Oh, no. Not a bit. There were goloshes in the hall. And they went, the girl leading, and talking of Anna knew not what, so absorbed was she in thinking how for a moment, just a moment, she could contrive to be with the boy alone.
It was not remarkable, this old house, but it was his home—might some day perhaps be his. And houses at night were strangely alive with their window eyes.
“That is my room,” the girl said, “where the jessamine is—you can just see it. Mark's is above—look, under where the eave hangs out, away to the left. The other night—”
“Oh, I don't—! Listen. That's an owl. We have heaps of owls. Mark likes them. I don't, much.”
“He's awfully keen, you see, about all beasts and birds—he models them. Shall I show you his workshop?—it's an old greenhouse. Here, you can see in.”
There through the glass Anna indeed could just see the boy's quaint creations huddling in the dark on a bare floor, a grotesque company of small monsters. She murmured:
“Yes, I see them, but I won't really look unless he brings me himself.”
“Oh, he's sure to. They interest him more than anything in the world.”
For all her cautious resolutions Anna could not for the life of her help saying:
The girl gave her a wistful stare before she answered:
Anna laughed, and took her arm. How soft and young it felt! A pang went through her heart, half jealous, half remorseful.
“Do you know,” she said, “that you are very sweet?”
“No. Gordy is only Mark's uncle by marriage; my mother is Gordy's sister—so I'm nothing.”
“I see—just what you English call 'a connection.'”
They were silent, seeming to examine the night; then the girl said: