His voice was tremulous. Slowly their lips came together; they embraced; then drew apart, and holding hands, stood gazing at each other.
"You're a dear, dear fool!" said Mary softly.
"And you're a dear, dear another!" softly said Jack.
(Outrageous fools, both! agreed Mrs. De Peyster.)
They were still gazing at each other when in the wide doorway at their back appeared Matilda, carrying the tray of tea-things that had been in Mrs. De Peyster's sitting-room. For the last few moments Mrs. De Peyster's danger had been forgotten in her indignation. But at sight of Matilda, regained its own.
Matilda stopped short. The tea-things almost rattled from the tray. Jack wheeled about.
"Hello, Matilda. Thought you'd gone down to the kitchen."
"Why—why—if it isn't Mr. Jack!" stammered Matilda.
Mrs. De Peyster trembled. What more likely than that Matilda, in her amazement, should reveal the house's secret? But the half-light of the room was a very obliging ally against such unsuspicion as her son's.
"Of course, it's Jack," said he. "Who else did you suppose it was? But say, what's the matter, Matilda?"