Cally sat stiffly in a chair against the wall, her face colorless. Different, this, from the telling she had contemplated, not five minutes ago. What had happened, indeed?
She said in a small flat voice: "I heard some bad news--over the telephone. A man--has died. He killed himself, this afternoon--"
Commanding even in that moment, Mrs. Heth turned upon the hovering maid and said: "A glass of water."
When the woman had passed out of earshot, she turned again, and put her two strong hands on Cally's shoulders.
"What man? Who was this you called up long-distance?"
"Mr. Dalhousie," said Cally's small voice. "I called up a friend of his...." She looked up fixedly at her mother and said: "Mamma, he did it because of me."
The name of ill omen staggered the mother a little. Her voice was half harsh, half frightened:
"Because of you! You are ill, my poor child. The shock has upset you. You are out of your head. The boy's mind was unhinged by drink. Every one said so. He had broken his father's heart with--"
"But he did this because of me. Because of what I let everybody think of him.... Mamma, I--I must go back home. I'm sorry to upset everything so...."
The maid stood by with her tray and glass, but no hand reached for the offering.