The three were in the library by the fire. Amelia had dressed for supper in chiffon absurdly thin and curtailed, neck and hem, so that Dick had, without being told, brought her fur coat and put it about her shoulders. That was just like her, Raven thought, as he went in upon them, to go by the clock and, because winter evenings necessitated evening dress, ignore the creeping cold of a country house. Nan wore her gown of the morning, and her stout shoes. Indeed she had to, Raven reminded himself, when he was about to commend her for good taste. She had brought only her little bag. Nan was now sweet reasonableness itself. No sleepiest kitten, claws in drawn, could have been softer. Amelia was baiting her, asking her, with a reproving implication that she ought not to have been in a position to know, about the life over seas, and Nan was answering by the card, compliantly, sincerely.
She had determined, Raven could see, that there should be no more ructions in his house. When he came in, they looked up at him, frankly pleased, and Amelia as patently relieved.
"I'm so glad you've come back," she said, getting up so that Dick could set another chair, and Raven join them in the conventional family circle. "I've been trying to send Dick out after you, but he wouldn't go. John, you mustn't get into the habit of wandering off alone like that. You really mustn't."
Raven grimaced as he took the properly adjusted chair, and wondered whether he'd got again to invite Milly to shut up. But Dick did it, in an honest despair that seemed entirely adequate.
"Ain't mother the limit?" he remarked, to no one but perhaps his own wondering mind.
Raven gave a little bark of laughter, and Amelia betrayed no sign of having heard. But Raven caught the grateful tribute of Nan's tone.
"My hanky," she said, "Dickie, dear."
He saw it dropped, saw Dick dart for it, and Nan, accepting it, give his fingers a little squeeze. Evidently Dick, who flushed red, was being paid for having briefly illuminated mother. Supper was got through successfully, Raven and Dick doing active service. Raven talked about thinning out the lower woods and Dick played up beautifully, taking it with the greatest attention and answering at length. Mother was to be shunted imperceptibly from cafard. And when they had finished and returned again to the library fire, Nan, after perhaps half an hour of desultory talk, yawned rudely and asked if she might go to her bed. Raven suspected her. He noted how she half closed the library door behind her; so he took the chair she had lately left, commanding the crack of it. In about the time he expected, he heard her in the hall. She had come down the back stairs, he judged, and was now putting on her hat and coat, with scarcely a rustle, the sly one!
"Draught from this door?" he suggested, got up and closed it.
At least Dick shouldn't know she was going. If anybody stole behind her in the friendly "outdoors" it should be he, to guard her from her own foolhardiness. These roads were paths of peace, but Nan was equal to adventure more extended. She might have snatched snowshoes, in her stealthy preparation, to go off wood wandering. She might brave the darkness where, to country minds, lurked the recurring legend of the "lucivee." There was no actual danger, but Pan might be wandering.