There was another long pause. The sound of a carriage passing along the street came in through the windows, but scarcely seemed to break the silence. Presently the servant returned—a highly respectable, elderly butler with very white hair, answering to the name of Fletcher. He set down the tea and departed noiselessly and with dignity. He had formerly been butler at the Ralstons’ for a number of years, but Mrs. Ralston had reduced her establishment after her husband’s death.
“What reaction did you mean?” asked Hester, idly, as she made the tea.
“Oh—I meant the natural reaction after the tremendous excitement we’ve all been living in for so long.”
“Oh!” ejaculated her companion, rather coldly. “I see,” she continued after a pause, during which she had made a busy little clatter with the tea things, “you mean because we hoped to get the money and didn’t—therefore, I’m sleepy. That doesn’t sound very sensible.”
“Well—not as you put it,” answered Katharine, with a short laugh of embarrassment.
She had determined to attack the subject boldly, so as to break the ice once and for always. Hester’s aggressive answer put her out.
“How would you put it?” enquired the latter, leaning back again and waiting for the tea to draw. “Explain! I’m awfully dull to-day.”
“Don’t you think it’s natural?” asked Katharine. “It’s of no use to deny that we’ve all been tremendously excited during the last fortnight, and now the excitement has stopped. One’s nerves run down—that sort of thing, you know—and then one’s tired and feels depressed.”
“The depression’s natural—in our case,” answered Hester, lifting the cover and looking into the teapot in a futile way, as though she would see whether the tea were strong enough.
“Yes,” said Katharine, thoughtfully. “Do you know, dear? It seems to me as though you were thinking that it was my fault, in a way.”