For a while they drove in silence. Then compunction seized him and he remarked on the beauty of the foliage. She assented easily, but seemed no more relieved by the speech than embarrassed by the silence. It was impossible to treat her as a hired servant: one felt a strong personality in her. Before they reached the house he was searching for conversation that should not bore her. As they stepped into the wide hall, where he observed with a shade of displeasure that her luggage had come before them, Dr. Hitchcock met them. “Ah, Miss Strong, glad to see you. Come right up. On time, as usual, of course! I was afraid you couldn’t make it. Jameson comes to-morrow, you know--” They were up the stairs; Belden stood idly in the hall where they had left him. He had had an idea of showing her the house, stating some of the facts of Clarice’s sudden and terrible need of her, indicating that in a family so jarred from the very foundations it would be wiser to look to him than to the bewildered master of the establishment; but this was not necessary. Evidently she persisted in dispensing with his services. His hand slipped to his vest pocket, but he replaced the cigar uncertainly: it seemed not quite the thing to smoke. Ought he to go to Peter? In his mind’s eye he saw the poor fellow haunting the landing by Caddy’s door; he had an idea that in some way he kept things quiet by doing this. And how could one be sure that the troubled creature wanted company? There was a violent ring at the bell, a jarring of wheels on the asphalt. The door flew open and the prettiest little woman imaginable, all fluffy ends and scarlet flowers and orris scent, rushed toward him. “Oh, Will! Oh, Will!” she gasped, “isn’t it terrible? Where is Peter? Can I see her? Oh, Will!” Instinctively he took her in his arms--one always did that with Peter’s sister--and she put her head on his shoulder and cried a little, while he patted her and murmured, “There, there!” She was so manifestly comforted, and it was so pleasant to comfort her--this was what a woman should be. He felt a renewed sense of capacity, of readiness for even the most terrible emergency. He led her gently to the great cushioned window-seat and listened sympathetically to her excited babblings. “It will kill Peter--it will kill him! In--in a great m-many ways, you know, Will, Peter isn’t so--so c-calm as Caddy. He is just bound up in her. Suppose--Oh, Will!” “Don’t cry, Sue dear, don’t!” he said soothingly. “She has a good chance--a fine chance, really. These things are mostly resisting power, you know, and grit, and think what a lot of grit Caddy’s got!” “Oh, I know, I know! Don’t you know when the baby died--that first baby--and s-she was so weak she could hardly speak? ‘Never mind, P-Peter, we’ll have another!’ Oh, dear, she was so pl-plucky, Will! And now to think--” He choked a little. “I know, I know,” he murmured, “Caddy’s a brick. She always was.”