It was a comfort to decide that Anne was in no wise to blame; it was such a comfort that Kit did what he must have done when he was eight and the knife that he had convinced himself was coming never came. He was alone in his room with no one to see, and he dropped his head on his folded arms and sobbed over his ruined hopes.
CHAPTER XIV
Adjustment
AFTER Kit had left them Miss Carrington and Helen remained till late talking earnestly, with their chairs drawn close. Their voices rose and fell—the fall emphasized—in all the earnestness of an important discussion, but never did they rise to the point at which words were distinguishable at any distance.
Minerva passed in and out of the room behind them, and though its windows were open she heard nothing except a clear yet muffled murmur.
“She will know all about it, plus, but there is no reason why she should be gratified now,” said Miss Carrington, malice in her eye. At last, when the old clock on the stairway struck eleven, Miss Carrington rose.
“Well, Helen, it will be past midnight before we get our chapter read and are in bed,” she said. “Of course, my dear, you read your nightly chapter? I am sure I can’t predict. Men differ almost as much as other animals; in fact, I’m not sure that they don’t vary more—sorrel horses, black ones, maltese cats—it’s easy to generalize on their traits. I’ve never known Kit under these conditions; I can’t say how he’ll react. It’s notorious that widowers are easily consoled. Still, it is often easier to console a man for the loss of what he had than for what he missed. Death is supposed to soften the hard heart. Kit might easily be caught on the rebound; then, again, he may not rebound, but drop. You handle a racquet well; can you bat him? That’s the wrong term!”
“Serve him?” laughed Helen. “That’s the word, and a lovely word it is in this connection.”
“Well, I don’t know. My recollection is that you serve into another’s court, which is not to our liking in this case. I think I mean pick him up; you do that with racquets, don’t you? I don’t know why I should insist on a tennis term! The whole thing, Helen, is that you are to be nice to my boy, and wisely nice. You will slip along, pussy-footed, your hand on the leader. I believe, from my experience with youngsters, that Kit will learn to lean upon your satisfying comradeship. It can’t be more than a fancy for the Dallas girl. He was ready supplied with ideals and she stood convenient, as a sort of rack, to hang them on. That’s the explanation of most first love. No harm done, my dear! Except that it is keeping us up, and that is harmful to me at my age! Unless there’s something going on, and then tiny hours don’t harm me!”
The dauntless old lady laughed and went into the house, Helen following with her forgotten knitting bag.