Helen moved away, and sat down wearily. Hugh bent to his aunt’s embrace. “There, there, Aunt Caroline, don’t cry,” he entreated, as soon as he could disentangle himself enough to be articulate.
“I can’t help it—I can’t help it,” Mrs. Leavitt wailed.
“Yes, but such big tears,” he coaxed, dabbing at them affectionately with his khaki-colored handkerchief; “there, there, dear.”
But the poor childless Niobe would not be comforted.
“Oh! Hugh,” she sobbed, “you won’t let them take you away—you are not going to let them take you away—promise me.”
“Why, of course not,” he said soothingly.
“I’m so frightened,” the woman moaned.
“There is no need to be frightened,” he told her briskly, “if you will only do your part, dear Aunt Caroline.”
“What is my part?” Caroline Leavitt asked falteringly.
“None of the servants know I have been here—not even Barker has seen me—get them away so they won’t see me leave.”