It was a terrific moment for the girl. It was worse than not knowing your part on the first night of a new play. Again her eyes turned to Garth. But this time he was caught unprepared. He missed his cue, and looked agonised. Marise believed that he was thinking of Mothereen more than of her. Still, she was sorry for the man. She just couldn't "let him down" before his adored one and his friends. Besides, she had never quite forgotten the ring of his voice on the night after the wedding when he had bidden her trust him. In his strange way—such as it was—he had never failed her since. No, she wouldn't let him down!
"What do I say?" she answered Mothereen. "I say 'Yes,' of course. I'm—delighted! Can't we all help to make up their beds, and bring in washstands and things?"
They all did help. And everyone lent Cath and Bill something—"for luck." Garth contributed pyjamas for his friend. Mothereen kept a supply of new toothbrushes of all sizes and qualities. Cath squeaked with joy over the "nighty" Marise offered.
Then at last came the moment for bidding each other "sleep well!—sweet dreams!" The door of Cath and Bill's bedroom shut. Mothereen followed Marise into her quarters adjoining, kissed and complimented her, and called Garth, who was looking at a picture of himself in his first British uniform, enlarged to enormous size in crayon, framed in gilt and hung up in the hall.
"Marise has sent her maid to bed," Mothereen explained. "She was tired after the journey—a train headache. I thought I could undo this lovely wreath for her, but I can't. Will you try?"
Garth tried. He'd never touched the girl's hair before. Its ripples were so soft—so soft! He had not known that a woman's hair could feel so divine as that. For an instant he was afraid that a certain unsteadiness of his fingers would make him awkward. But he almost prayed that it might not, and the prayer—if it was a prayer—had its answer. He happened to be particularly deft. The emerald laurel wreath yielded its secret to him, and without disturbing one of those wonderful golden waves, he laid the glittering thing on the table.
"Well, I'll say good night, then, me dear ones," said Mothereen. "It's made me as happy as a bird, sure it has, to see your happiness. The Lord is good to us all, He who brought Johnny back, safe and sound, out o' the Furnace. His blessin' on ye both this night!"
Then she was gone.
Her words had brought a sense of peace into the room, as if a white dove had flown in.