“Then let’s pray now, Nellie.”
They knelt together beside the big gray chair in the silence of the twilight, hand in hand, and put up silent petitions; and then they got up and went to the window.
The city had that gentle, haloed look of a chastened child in the afterglow of the sunset; and soft violets and purples were twisting in misty wreaths about the edges of the night. Bells were calling in the distance. A far-away chime could just be heard in tender waves that almost obliterated the melody. The Sabbath hush was in the sky, broken now and again by harsh, rasping voices and laughter as a car sped by on the way home from some pleasure trip. Something hallowed seemed to linger above the little house, and all about was a sweet quiet. The neighbors had for the moment hushed their chatter. Now and again a far-distant twang of a cheap victrola broke out and died away, and then the silence would close around them again. The two sat waiting breathlessly on the pretty front porch that Carey had made, for Carey to come home. But Carey did not come.
By and by the sound of singing young voices came distinctly to their ears. It seemed to beat against their hearts and hurt them.
“Nellie, you’ll have to go pretty soon. It’ll be so hard to explain, you know. And, besides, he might somehow be there. Carey wouldn’t stop for a hat. I almost think he’s there myself.” Louise sounded quite grown up.
“Of course, he might,” said Cornelia thoughtfully. “There’s always a possibility that we have made a great deal more out of this than the facts merited.” She shuddered. She had just drawn her mind back from a fearful abyss of possibilities, and it was hard to get into everyday untragic thought.
“I think we better go, Nellie,” said the little girl rising. “Christian ’deavor ’ll be most out before we can get there now, and she’ll think it queer if we don’t come, after she gave us both those verses to read. You won’t like to tell her you were just sitting here on the front porch, doing nothing, because you thought Carey had gone to Lamb’s Tavern after her! I think we’d better go. We prayed, and we better trust God and go.”
“Perhaps you’re right, dearie,” said Cornelia, rising reluctantly and giving a wistful glance up the hill into the darkness.
They got ready hurriedly, put the key into its hiding-place, and went. Cornelia wrote a little note, and as soon as they got there sent it up with the music to Grace, who was at the piano. It said:
“Dear Grace, Carey was called away for a few minutes, and he must have been detained longer than he expected. Don’t worry; I’m sure he will do everything in his power to get back in time.”