The boy stared at her, unmoved.
"I pity him because he doesn't know how to make you happy."
"You don't need to—to take any trouble," was the stolid reply.
"It isn't a trouble. I like you. I like to have you with me. I went up to the farm this morning—the haunted farm."
"Did—did you see anything?"
"Yes. Supposing we go down to the beach and I'll tell you about it. You shall carry two cushions for us; then if you want to take a nap you can do so while I read."
"I would rather—rather be alone."
Mrs. Lowell met his wretched eyes with her irresistible smile which had in it selflessness, love, and courage.
"No, you wouldn't, dear boy. Besides, it is an impossibility. We are never alone. You know the Father we talked about the other day, the One who showed your mother how to love you. He is with us all the time, and no one and nothing can separate us from Him, no matter what seems to be."
"Could I see Him if I—if I died? Because I'd like to—to die and see—my mother."