“To-morrow!” echoed papa in his brightest tone. “No, indeed, not for many days—two or three weeks! We are going to have such a happy time. We’ll go out and pick up shells, and if there is a very warm sunshiny day with only little waves on the sea, maybe we’ll go out in a boat—that’s if mamma will come with us,” he added, remembering his promised obedience to her discretion.
Hugh broke away from his father and ran back into the room.
“Oh, mamma,” he cried, “you will let us go out in a boat, won’t you? If the day’s sunshiny—an’ it’s sure to be—and if the waves are ever such little teeny weenies! Oh, mamma, yes!”
“We shall see, Hugh. We will do what seems wise. It is time you went to bed.”
In commanding her voice to be steady, it sounded sharp and hard. It checked Hugh’s ecstasy, and brought his father out from behind the curtain. She felt that Charlie’s expression was surprised, and that she would break down utterly if she had to meet his eyes. Without looking back, she caught the hand of the silenced and awed Hugh, and hurried him away to the other room.
Neither of them spoke while she helped the child undress. Even her eyes did not answer his, though she saw his blue orbs raised wistfully. He knelt down and said his little prayer, the “Our Father,” and the little verse of godly nursery tradition—
“Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.”