"But they are not happy, my dear madam," said the bishop, driven by a sense of duty into correcting her mistake, and yet discouraged by a sense that whatever he said she would interrupt him before he had said it. "They are not happy. They are full of terror. Darkness and night are to them just a recurring fear." "To me too," said Mrs. Hazlitt. "The heathen have nothing on me, as these girls would say. I look under my bed every night for a giant spider I read about when I was a child. You ought to be so careful what children read. So interesting--your sermon, bishop. I'm sure you could convert me if I were a heathen. Oh, I see you think I practically am. Oh, bishop, your face! Lita, the bishop thinks I'm a heathen. This is my child. May we go to your room before luncheon? Well, I never know. I'm so afraid of breaking some of their silly rules in this place. Oh, I hope Miss Barton did not hear me say that. I've asked that nice fat girl with the red hair to lunch with us at the inn. I'd rather like to ask the bishop too--he's rather sweet," she added regretfully as Lita began to lead her away in the direction of her dormitory. "But I suppose you girls wouldn't be amused by a bishop." "Mother dear," said Lita, "prepare yourself for a shock." "You've been expelled," said Mrs. Hazlitt as if it had come at last, as she always knew it would. "No, it's almost worse. Father is here too." Mrs. Hazlitt stopped short and looked at her child. "What?" she exclaimed, and the final t of the word was like a bullet. "But this is my Sunday." "But he didn't know that." "Didn't he, indeed? It's been my experience that your father usually contrives to know anything that it's to his advantage to know--and the other way round. He just thought he could get away with it. Well, he can't!" "He's been away on business for three months, mother." "Has he so? Fortunately I am no longer obliged to keep track of your father's comings and goings--especially the latter. When I did attempt to--" She paused, bitterly brooding on her past anxieties; and Lita, taking her again by the arm, succeeded in setting her in motion. They entered the building where Lita lived, mounted the stairs in silence and went to Lita's room. Aurelia, who shared the room, being in the infirmary, secured them from interruption. Mrs. Hazlitt walked at once to the window and peered out in all directions; but the window did not command that part of the grounds which lay between the chapel and the main gate. Finding the object of her hostile interest was not in sight, she turned back to her child.