“No ... not this year,” cried Lily. “It is such fun, and I haven’t seen Cousin Hattie and Uncle Jacob and Ellen for years.”
Again the mother yielded. “You want gaiety, I see.”
“Well, I’m not pious like Irene, and this house is gloomy enough.” At the sight of her mother rising from her chair, she said ... “Let’s not go to the library. Let’s sit here. I hate it in there.”
So there they remained while the tall candles burned lower and lower. Suddenly after a brief pause in the talk, the mother turned to Lily and said, “Et toi.”
Lily shrugged her shoulders. “Moi? Moi? Je suis contente.”
“Et Madame Gigon, et le petit Jean.”
“They are well ... both of them. I have brought a picture which I’ve been waiting to show you.”
“He is married, you know.”
“When?”
“Only three weeks ago. He came here after your letter to offer to do anything he could. He wants the boy to go to school in America.”