She went up the stairs and the boy followed.
When she came down again, the corridor and living-room were empty. Perhaps the lad had decided against her plan after all. She sank down in a chair by the door and closed her eyes.
"Dear Father," she prayed, "Thy will be done, and may my thought be ever ready to separate between the real and the unreal. Let me not be discouraged by the seeming, but may I remember every moment what Thy will is, and that Thine omnipotent Love is ever present. Let me reflect Thine intelligence and take my human footsteps wisely. Let me know that Thy Truth will uncover the error that is to be met, and that I cannot be dismayed, for Thou art with me, and underneath are the everlasting arms."
Footsteps sounded on the uncarpeted stairs and she looked up and saw Bertie.
"I thought I wouldn't come," he said. "Then I thought you—you might wait—"
"You see I did," said Mrs. Lowell, "and here are the cushions. Will you take them, please?"
The boy picked them up and they set forth.
As they crossed the piazza, Mrs. Lowell nodded to Miss Emerson and the two men with her. These followed the pair with their eyes as they descended the steps, and started across the field.
"By Jove, that young nut is in luck," said Mr. Evans, a short, thick-set man, with spectacles.
"Why, do you think Mrs. Lowell is so attractive?" asked Miss Emerson.