With regard to her mother's affairs also, she would have been glad if the boy had not been drawn into the discussion. It was characteristic of Mrs. Sheppard to fling her burden upon the first shoulder that offered, but Maud was fashioned otherwise, and she wanted Bunny to throw off his precocities and become like other boys. The thought of his education was beginning to weigh upon her. She wanted to talk about it to Jake, but somehow she did not know how to broach the subject. She wondered if she should write to Uncle Edward, but hesitated to do so. Letters were never satisfactory.
She was pondering this matter as she undressed that night when a sudden thought struck her--a thought that darted through her like a flash, leaving a shining trail of possibilities behind. Why should they not accept the old man's invitation and go to him for a little while? He would be glad to see them, she was sure; and she would be glad--oh, unspeakably glad--to get away for a time. Face to face with him, she might even plead for her mother. She would infinitely rather be under an obligation to him than to Charlie.
The idea drew her more and more. She wondered it had not occurred to her before. In the end, finding it still early, she sat down at the table and began to scribble a hasty note. She determined that she would not tell Jake until Uncle Edward's reply reached her. She felt convinced that it would contain the invitation she was soliciting.
Feverishly she penned her appeal. Would he invite them to spend a few days? Bunny was well, or nearly so; she herself was feeling the heat, and would like a change. Jake--, no, she found she could not mention Jake. With trembling fingers she brought the note to an end.
She had scarcely finished addressing the envelope when she heard Jake's step on the stairs. Startled, she caught up letter and writing-case, and pushed them into a drawer. He seldom retired late, but she had not expected him so early as this. Swiftly she turned, shut the door that led into his room, blew out her lamp and slipped into bed.
But he did not pass on to his own room. He stopped at the door of hers, paused a second, then quietly opened it. She heard the creak of his gaiters as he entered. He had a candle in one hand; he put up the other to shield it from the draught, and the door blew gently to behind him.
Maud leaned against her pillow and watched him. Her heart was beating very fast. She wondered if he had heard her hasty movements of the past few moments.
He came to her side and set down his candle. "Say, Maud," he said, "I saw your light go out, so I guessed you weren't asleep."
Maud's eyes, blue-black and sombre, looked up to his. "What do you want?" she asked him coldly.
He stood squarely beside her. "I wanted just to speak to you," he said, "and I thought if I waited to undress, maybe you'd be asleep."