"That's the ticket!" cried Cornish.
They sang it, to Lulu's right hand.
"That's the one you picked out when you was a little girl, Lulie," cried, Mrs. Bett.
Lulu had played it now as she must have played it then.
Half after nine and Di had not returned. But nobody thought of Di. Cornish rose to go.
"What's them?" Mrs. Bett demanded.
"Dwight's letters, mamma. You mustn't touch them!" Lulu's voice was sharp.
"Say!" Cornish, at the door, dropped his voice. "If there was anything I could do at any time, you'd let me know, wouldn't you?"
That past tense, those subjunctives, unconsciously called upon her to feel no intrusion.
"Oh, thank you," she said. "You don't know how good it is to feel—"