Peter came in by the greenhouse door, walking slowly, his hands behind his back. He looked old for the first time in his jolly, persistently boyish life.
“Those chrysanthemums are all drying up,” he complained fretfully; “not one of the blamed servants has done a thing since—since—O Lord, Will, what shall we be doing this time tomorrow? Where are the children? Where’s Miss Strong? There’s a woman for you! Caddy took to her directly. She’s there now. She’s talking to her about the children. Oh, my God!”
Belden grasped his hand and they walked silently up and down the hall.
“Aunt Lucia’s coming to-night,” Peter resumed nervously. “She will drive me mad. Take care of her, will you? If I could have choked her off—but when you think she was just like a mother to Cad all these years, what can you do? She’s got a right. You’d think she’d have got some sense from living with Cad so long. I told Henry to go for her—and there you are,” he added, as the cart drew up before the open door.
Belden went slowly down the steps; he detested Aunt Lucia, and Clarice had always stood between them.
“How do you do?” he began, assisting her from the high seat. Her long crape veil caught in the wheel, and the numberless black and floating ends of her costume wound themselves about him as he bent down to disentangle her.
“Oh, Wilmot, this is a terrible day for us all, is it not? Be careful of the hem of that veil, please. When I kissed Clarice good-by last Christmas I little thought what a good-by it was! Is she conscious? You have muddied the boa, I think, but never mind. Can I see her once more?”
“For Heaven’s sake, Aunt Lucia, anybody would think Caddy was in her grave! She’s a long way from it yet, thank God! Of course she’s conscious, and spunky as the—as ever. I don’t think you really needed to—”
“My dear Wilmot, I prepared Clarice for her confirmation, I dressed her for her wedding, and I was here when the children were born. If you think that I would fail her in this crisis you have a very poor idea of my character. But then, I am perfectly aware that you always had. Oh, there is Peter! My poor Peter!” She rushed toward him, and Belden smiled sardonically as his brother-in-law planted a perfunctory kiss on her chin.
“This may comfort you, Peter, as it has me so often in such circumstances. So short, so true, so helpful. ‘Underneath are the everlasting arms!’ Do you feel that, Peter?”