and then leap as swift as lightning first here, and then there, all
over the hall. But he didn't see her. I knew he didn't see her, by the
look on his face. And pretty quick I said I'd have to go. And then he
said:

"Your mother--perhaps she didn't--_did_ she come?" And his face grew
all red and rosy as he asked the question.

And I said yes, and she was waiting, and that was why I had to go back
right away.

And he said, "Yes, yes, to be sure," and, "good-bye." But he still
held my hand tight, and his eyes were still roving all over the house.
And I had to tell him again that I really had to go; and I had to pull
real determined at my hand, before I could break away. And I don't
believe I could have gone even then if some other folks hadn't come up
at that minute.

I went back to Mother then. The hall was almost empty, and she wasn't
anywhere in sight at all; but I found her just outside the door. I
knew then why Father's face showed that he hadn't found her. She
wasn't there to find. I suspect she had looked out for that.

Her face was still pinky-white, and her eyes were shining; and she
wanted to know everything we had said--everything. So she found out,
of course, that he had asked if she was there. But she didn't say
anything herself, not anything. She didn't say anything, either, at
the luncheon table, when Grandfather was talking with Aunt Hattie
about the lecture, and telling some of the things Father had said.