“I can bear no more,” he said, unsteadily; “it is a communion service with the dead.”
“Lynn,” said Margaret, after the guest had gone, “I am troubled about Iris. She is grieving herself to death, and it is not natural for the young to suffer acutely for so long. Can you suggest anything?”
“No,” answered Lynn, anxious in his turn, “except to get outdoors. I don’t believe she’s been out since Aunt Peace was buried.”
“You must take her, then.”
“Do you think she would go with me?”
“I don’t know, dear, but try it—try it to-morrow. Take her for a long walk and get her so tired that she will sleep. Nothing rests the mind like fatigue of the body.”
“Mother,” began Lynn, after a little, “are we always going to stay in East Lancaster?”
“I haven’t thought about it at all, Lynn. Are you becoming discontented?”
“No—I was only looking ahead.”