Godmother and Mary Alice began picking up the teacups and the toast
plate, almost as if there had been a funeral.

Then Godmother laughed. "How solemn we are!" she said, pretending to
think it all very funny.

But Mary Alice couldn't pretend. She set down his teacup which she had
just lifted with gentle reverence off the mantel, where he left it, and
went closer to Godmother. Her lips were trembling, but she did not
have to speak.

"I know, Precious--I know," whispered Godmother. She sat down in a big
chair close to the fire--the chair he had just left--and Mary Alice sat
on the hearth-rug and nestled her head against Godmother's knees.
Neither of them said anything for what seemed a long time. They just
looked into the glowing bed of coals and saw--different things!

Then, "I think," Mary Alice began, in a voice that was full of tears,
"I think I wish we hadn't played any game. I think I wish I hadn't
seen him at all."

"Lovey _dear_!"

"Yes, I do!" wept Mary Alice, refusing to be comforted. "Everything
was beautiful, before he came. And now he's gone, and I'm
so--lonesome!"

Godmother was silent for a moment. "There's the Secret," she
suggested, at last. "It was--it was when I felt just as you do now,
that I began to learn the Secret."