"Will you come with me to my room?"
"Now?"
"Yes. You know I cannot go up the stairs. And—I lost my own dear mother not long ago, you will remember."
Tears started to the girl's eyes, but she waited until Irene wheeled her chair beside her and then the two went through the den to Irene's room.
Mrs. Conant nodded to Peter approvingly.
"Irene will comfort her," she said, "and in a way far better than I might do. It is all very dreadful and very sad, Peter, but the poor child has never enjoyed much of her mother's society and when the first bitter grief is passed I think she will recover something of her usual cheerfulness."
"H-m," returned the lawyer; "it seems a hard thing to say, Hannah, but this demise may prove a blessing in disguise and be best for the child's future happiness. In any event, I'm sure it will relieve the strain many of us have been under for the past ten years."
"You talk in riddles, Peter."
"The whole thing is a riddle, Hannah. And, by the way, have you noticed anything suspicious about our hired girl?"
"About Sarah? No," regarding him with surprise.