feelings.... You ought to write and tell Mr. Hichens."

Her mother gave a short sobbing laugh. "Oh, you darling," she said.

He lay still. Then suddenly he began pressing hard on the mattress with
both hands, bracing himself up in the bed. Her mother leaned closer
towards him. He threw himself over slantways, and with his head bent as if
it was broken, dropped into her arms.

Harriett wondered why he was making that queer grating and coughing noise.
Three times.

Her mother called softly to her--"Harriett."

She began to tremble.



VIII


Her mother had some secret that she couldn't share. She was wonderful in
her pure, high serenity. Surely she had some secret. She said he was
closer to her now than he had ever been. And in her correct, precise
answers to the letters of condolence Harriett wrote: "I feel that he is
closer to us now than he ever was." But she didn't really feel it. She
only felt that to feel it was the beautiful and proper thing. She looked
for her mother's secret and couldn't find it.

Meanwhile Mr. Hichens had given them six weeks. They had to decide where