No reply,—only the soft continuance of the magic tale in the inner room.
'By the way,'—He stepped down a stair. 'By the way, Maggie, may I see you a second?'
The story had ceased, but Maggie neither answered nor came. He stepped to the dining-room door with a curious sense of apprehension. There was a touch of surprise in his tone.
'Maggie!'
She looked round and on her face was the quick and strange reflection of his bewilderment. Yet she looked beyond him, through him, as if he had not been there. The boy John was still staring into the fire, folded deep in the robe of enthrallment his mother had made. As if from the hushed heart of it, he said,—
'What did you hear, mother?'
She gave him a startled glance, and then she smiled upon him, tenderly, warmly.
'Only the wind outside, dear child. It is a rainy and windy night.'
She looked again toward the door of the room.