The low clear voice fell silent--and the silence stayed. The vague
thrill of a tragedy they could hardly grasp laid a spell upon the
children. It made Roy feel as he did in Church, when the deepest notes
of the organ quivered through him; and it brought a lump in his throat,
which must be manfully swallowed down on account of being a boy....

And suddenly the spell was broken by the voice of Roger the footman, who
had approached noiselessly along the mossy track.

"If you please, m'lady, Sir Nevil sent word as Lord and Lady Roscoe 'ave
arrived unexpected; and if convenient, can you come in?"

They all started visibly and their dream-world of desert and rose-red
mountains and battle-fields and leaping flames shivered like a
soap-bubble at the touch of a careless hand.

Lilámani rose, gentle and dignified. "Thank you, Roger. Tell Sir Nevil I
am coming."

Roy suppressed a groan. The mere mention of Aunt Jane made one feel
vaguely guilty. To his nimble fancy it was almost as if her very person
had invaded their sanctuary, in her neat hard coat and skirt and her
neat hard summer hat with its one fierce wing, that, disdaining the
tenderness of curves, seemed to stab the air, as her eyes so often
seemed to stab Roy's hyper-sensitive brain.

"Oh dear!" he sighed. "Will they stop for lunch?"

"I expect so."