"We won't light the tree until he comes," was Nancy's brave decision. "The early train will get him here in time for breakfast."
David drove big Ben down to meet him. Milly cooked a mammoth breakfast. Anne slipped across the road to the Crossroads school to ring the bell for the young master's return. The rest of the household waited in the library. Brinsley was there with a story to tell, but no one listened. Their ears were strained to catch the first sharp sound of big Ben's trot. Sulie was there with a red rose in her hair to match the fires which were warming her old heart. Nancy was there at the window, watching.
Then the telephone rang. Nancy was wanted. Long distance.
It was many minutes before she came back. Yet the message had been short. She had hung up the receiver, and had stood in the hall in a whirling world of darkness.
Richard was not coming.
He had been sorry. Tender. Her own sweet son. Yet he had seemed to think that business was a sufficient excuse for breaking her heart. Surely there were doctors enough in that octopus of a town to take his patients off of his hands. And she was his mother and wanted him.
She had a sense of utter rebellion. She wanted to cry out to the world, "This is my son, for whom I have sacrificed."
And now the bell across the street began to ring its foolish chime—Richard was not coming, ding, dong. She must get through the day without him, ding, dong, she must get through all the years!
When she faced the solicitous group in the library, only her whiteness showed what she was feeling.
"Richard is detained by—an important—operation. And breakfast is—waiting. Sulie, will you call Anne, and light the little tree?"