After a few minutes' chat, Dexie left the room to return home, but Lancy was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and he drew her into the parlor, saying:
"Stay with me a little while, Dexie, do; no one will disturb us here, and I want to have a 'sing.' Your father or Gussie are sure to be in the parlor if we go into your house."
"Well, it will have to be a short 'sing,' Lancy, for the drive in the wind has made me sleepy."
When Mrs. Gurney passed the door a few minutes later, and peeped into the dimly lighted room to listen to the soft strains that met her ears, she smiled and softly withdrew, for Lancy was seated at the instrument, and Dexie stood by his side, her hand resting carelessly on his shoulder, while they sang what Mrs. Gurney knew was their private thanksgiving.
As the last notes died away, Lancy turned on the music-stool and took her hand; Dexie's thoughts had been so engrossed that, for the moment, she let it rest there, when she heard the low-spoken words: "I want to tell you something, Dexie."
Instantly Elsie's words flashed into her mind, and she tried to break away from the arm that encircled her waist.
"Let me go, Lancy," was the startled cry. "It is time I was home."
"I will take you home presently, Dexie; I want to talk to you a few minutes first," and catching her hands in his he held her close.
"But I do not want to be held here! Oh, Lancy! let go my hands. I must go home."