Emily got up abruptly, so abruptly her chair would have turned over but for his quickness in getting there to catch it, but his good humour was proof even against this, though he ordinarily frowned at awkwardness. He set the chair in place, and taking Emily’s hand as they all went from the room, patted it ostentatiously. Alexina grew hot.
“A pretty hand, a hand for a man to be proud to own, eh, Alexina?”
Emily almost snatched it away and paused at the foot of the stairs.
“Good-by,” she said.
He was finding his overcoat and feeling for his gloves. Then he took a little whisk-broom from the rack drawer and brushed his hat with nicety. He was smiling with high humour. The man’s content was almost fatuous.
“I’m glad to have you here, Alexina,” he said; “very glad. I will feel that Emily is having the companionship she ought to have in my absence.”
The click of the door as he closed it seemed to breathe a brisk and satisfied complacency. Emily had fled up-stairs. Alexina followed her slowly.
How strange it seemed to hear her moving about in what had been Aunt Harriet’s room.
“Come in,” she called.
Alexina went in.