“Alone?”
“Oh, no—” Ariadne began to explain, but the doctor had darted to the window. You could see the grape-arbor plainly from there—Muvver sitting with her hair all mussed up around her face, listening to the new man, who sat across the table from her and talked and talked and talked, and never moved a finger. Uncle Marius put his hand up quick to his side and said something Ariadne couldn’t catch. She looked up, saw his face, and ran away, terrified, to hide her face in ’Stashie’s dirty apron. Now she knew how Uncle Marius looked when he was angry. She heard him go out and down the steps, and went fearfully to watch him. He went across the grass to the arbor. The others looked toward him without moving, and when he came close and leaned against the table, Muvver looked up at him and said something, and then leaned back again, her head resting against the chair, her eyes closed, her hands dropped down. How tired Muvver always looked!
And just then ’Stashie spilled all the cocoa she was going to use to flavor the pudding with. She spilled it on the stove, and it smoked and stinked—there was nobody nowadays to forbid Ariadne to use ’Stashie’s words—and ’Stashie said there wasn’t any more and they’d have to go off to the grocery-store to get some, and if Ariadne knew where that nickel was Mis’ Sandworth give her, they could get a soda-water on the way, and with two straws it would do for both.
CHAPTER XXXIII
WHAT IS BEST FOR THE CHILDREN?
Lydia lifted her face, white under the shadow of her disordered hair, and said: “It is Mr. Rankin who must take care of the children—Ariadne, and the baby if it lives.”
She spoke in a low, expressionless voice, as though she had no strength to spare. Dr. Melton’s hand on the table began to shake. He answered: “I have told you before, my dear, that there is no reason for your fixed belief that you will not live after the baby’s birth. You must not dwell on that so steadily.”
Lydia raised her heavy eyes once more to his. “I want him to have the children,” she said.