Then Mr. Atterton looked in to say he was just off to a meeting of county justices, and when Mrs. Atterton indicated the subject of her discussion with Andy, he said in a rather less breezy tone, “Ah yes. The window, of course. It must be attended to at once. My poor aunt wanted one with birds in, if possible, Mr. Deane. She owned William, you know. Left instructions in her will about the window. I suppose——” he paused, eyed Andy dubiously—“I can’t recall to mind any Biblical parrot—but if there were——”
Now Andy was as miserable as a man well could be, but he was also one of those whom the deepest sorrow cannot blind to the blessed funniness that is always shining out, like stars in a dark sky, to help travellers for whom life’s road would otherwise become impassable; and when he saw Mr. Atterton’s face—reverent yet annoyed—while that gentleman searched mentally the pages of Holy Writ with an inward, “Deuce take it! why isn’t there a parrot?” he could no more help smiling inwardly than he could help breathing. However, he replied, with a gravity befitting the subject—
“There are other birds—something can easily be arranged.”
“That’s all right. That’s all right,” said Mr. Atterton. “Of course, it’s of no real importance, but when you know what people would have liked and they’re not there to speak for themselves, you know——”
He left it at that and went off with a brisk farewell, to encounter Elizabeth in the doorway, who half turned to go when she saw Andy, but came on after all and shook hands.
“May I offer you my heartiest congratulations—Mrs. Atterton has been telling me——”
“Thank you, very much.”
There, the impossible had happened, and the world went on just the same; so one sort of youth was past for Andy, by the time Mrs. Atterton added—
“We are so delighted, Mr. Deane.”
But she did not look at him as she said it, because of what Norah had once told her, and because the poor boy might have had a passing fancy for Elizabeth. So many young men had suffered in that way.