On approaching the house he saw a light in Aurora's bedroom. He drove around to the kitchen door and tied the mare to the hitching-post. His rap was answered by Ellen, a quarryman's daughter whom Mrs. Googe employed for general help; but she spoke behind the closed door:
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Octavius Buzzby."
She drew the bolt and flung open the door. "Oh, it's you, is it, Mr. Buzzby? I've got so nervous these last three weeks, I keep the door bolted most of the time. Have you heard anything?" she asked eagerly, speaking under her breath.
"No," said Octavius shortly; "I want to see Mrs. Googe. Tell her I must see her; it's important."
The girl hesitated. "I don't believe she will—and I hate to ask her—she looks awful, Mr. Buzzby. It scares me just to see her goin' round without saying a word from morning to night, and then walking half the night up in her room. I don't believe she's slept two hours a night since—you know when."
"I guess she'll see me, Ellen; you go and ask her, anyway. I'll stay in the lower hall."
He heard her rap at the bedroom door and deliver the message. There followed the sharp click of a lock, the opening of the door and the sound of Aurora's voice:
"Tell him to come up."
Octavius started upstairs. He had seen her but once in the past three weeks; that was when he went to her on the receipt of the news of Champney's flight; he vowed then he would not go again unless sent for; the sight of the mother's despair, that showed itself in speechless apathy, was too much for him. He could only grasp her hand at that time, press it in both his, and say: "Aurora, if you need me, call me; you know me. We'll help all we can—both of you—"