Mamma gave a sort of gasp or choke before she answered. Then she said,
"Why, dear, why should you think—oh, I don't know what I am saying," and she tried to laugh.
But I wouldn't let her.
"It's something in your face, mamma," I persisted.
She was silent for a moment.
"We had meant to tell you and Haddie this evening," she said, "father and I together; but perhaps it is better. Yes, my Geraldine, there is something. Till now it was not quite certain, though it has been hanging over us for some weeks, ever since——"
"Since that day I asked you—the morning after father came home so late and you had been crying?"
"Yes, since then," said mamma.
She put her arm round me, and then she told me all that I have told already, or at least as much of it as she thought I could understand. She told it quietly, but she did not try not to cry—the tears just came trickling down her face, and she wiped them away now and then. I think the letting them come made her able to speak more calmly.