The old lady lay back in the chair and gazed at her absently, as if she merely included her in a general picture of life. Madam Fulton had changed. Her eyes were wistful, and she looked very frail.
"Billy Stark sails on Saturday," she volunteered, as if it were the one thing in her mind.
Grannie came in at the moment, and laid a kindly hand on her old friend's shoulder. Rose went back to her chair, and left them to their talk, while she put up her papers before quitting the room. Madam Fulton looked at grannie now.
"You've had your morning coffee, haven't you?" asked grannie, because she could think of nothing else to offer.
"Yes, I've had coffee, and I've had cereals. Electra is looking after me with that kind of an air, you know, as if I were a rockbound duty. My soul! If it wasn't for Billy Stark, I should die."
"Poor Electra!" said grannie softly.
"Now what do you want to call her that for? Why is she 'poor Electra' because she chooses to go round like a high priestess strapping me down on altars and pouring libations of cereals and cream? I could stand it if her heart was in it, but it's miles away. And Billy Stark is going."
Grannie only patted her hand.
"Well, well!" said she. "It's been nice to have him here."
"It's been heaven. It's the only heaven I shall ever know."