Then he turned to Mary Walden, who was quietly sewing by the window. The plain, comfortable little woman was like a nerve tonic.
"Mary," he said, "I'm going to ask you to do something for me."
"Yes, Mr. Law." The voice in itself restored poise to the poiseless.
"I'm tuckered out, I want you to come for two or three hours each day and read to Norval. My voice gets raspy and he absorbs books like a sponge. Besides, I want to paint. I've got an idea on my chest. Revelle can take care of Donelle while you are with me."
And then, so suddenly that Law fell back before the onslaught, Donelle rushed to him.
"Why can't I go?" she demanded. No other word could describe the look and tone. "He could not see me!"
"But, good Lord, he still has his hearing, devilish sharp hearing."
"I could talk like Mary Walden! Why, Man-Andy, always I could act and talk like others, if I wanted to. Mamsey could tell you. I used to make her laugh. Please listen——"
And then in a kind of desperation Donelle made an effort, such a pitiful one, to speak in the calm, colourless tones of Mary Walden. They all wanted to laugh, even Revelle who, at the moment, entered the room, but the strained, tense look on the girl's face restrained them.
But a week later Donelle made a test. From another room she carried on quite a conversation with Law and, until she showed herself, he could have sworn he was talking to Mary Walden.