“You two must be much alike,” she smiled.
“No. If he went where you took me, he wouldn’t be asleep.”
She moved down the stairs. He checked her.
“I wish we could sit here—a moment. It seems wicked to go down into the light right off.”
She glanced up a bit startled. He could see her eyes by the glow which came up from the sitting room.
“We must go down right away,” she answered quickly. “Aunt Philomela is waiting for us.”
He dared not insist further. Before he reached the bottom of the stairs he was sorry that he had ventured that far. It was to the lady of his picture he had spoken and she, this girl by his side, well she was not the lady of his picture.
They found Aunt Philomela asleep by the candle. Her hands were folded in her lap and her head was bowed.
“You see,” whispered Miss Van Patten. “The music made her drowse too in spite of herself.”
“What did you say?” inquired Aunt Philomela suddenly sitting up with the exaggerated look of wide awakeness of one who endeavors thereby to prove she has been wide awake all the time.