Aunt Katharine followed them with her lorgnette.
"They're a fine couple," she said to Elma. "It's a pity Mabel spoiled herself with this Meredith man. Mr. Symington might lead her out in earnest. I always told your mother what it would be."
There was no squashing of Aunt Katharine.
Mabel had begun to see land after having tossed on what had seemed an endless sea. She had been without any hope at all, but it was necessary to appear throughout as though she had some safe anchor holding her in port. The joy of delivery was almost more than she could bear. She became afraid of looking at Mr. Symington. After the arrival of the guests at the White House, she managed to slip out and disappear upstairs. Her own room had people in it helping to robe Isobel. She stole into the schoolroom. Too late of making up her mind, since Mr. Symington, seeing a trail of pale silken skirts disappear there, tried the only door open to him on that landing. He found Mabel.
"Oh," said she blankly. "I wanted to get away--away from downstairs for a little."
He had some difficulty in replying.
"So I noticed," he said.
They lamely waited. Mabel caught at a window cord and played with it.
"We ought to go downstairs," she whispered.
Why she spoke in a whisper she could not imagine.