Some purchases were necessary for their comfort; Eve did not dare to leave Cicely with Jack, lest she should find them both gone on her return; she therefore took them with her, saying to the negro coachman, privately, "If that lady should tell you to return to the hotel or to drive to the steamer when I am not with you, pay no attention to her; she is ill, and not responsible for what she says." As she was coming out of a shop, a face she knew met her eyes--Judge Abercrombie. He had come from Gary Hundred that morning, and was on his way to Romney; he intended to take the evening boat. He recognized them; he hurried to the carriage door, astonished, alarmed. Eve seemed cowed by his presence. It was Cicely who said, "Yes, we are here, grandpa. Get in, and I will tell you why." But when the old man had placed himself opposite to her, when Eve had taken her seat again and the carriage was rolling towards the hotel, Cicely still remained mute. At last she leaned forward. "I can't tell you," she said, putting her hand into his; "at least I can't tell you now. Will you wait, dear? Do wait." Her voice, as she said this, was like the voice of a little girl of ten. The old man, wondering, held her hand protectingly. He glanced at Eve. But Eve's eyes were turned away. The drive was a short one. As they entered Cicely's room, Eve took Jack in her arms and went out again into the hall, closing the door behind her. The hall was long, with a window at each end; a breeze blew through it, laden with the perfume of flowers. Jack clamored for a game; Eve raised him to her shoulder, and went to the window at the west end; it overlooked a garden crowded with blossoms; then she turned and walked to the east end, Jack considering it a march, and playing that her shoulder was his drum; the second window commanded a view of the burned walls of the desolated town. Eight times she made the slow journey from the flowers to the ruins, the ruins to the flowers. Then Cicely opened the door. "You can come in now. Grandpa knows." Grandpa's face, in his new knowledge, was pitiful to see. He had evidently been trying to remain calm, and he had succeeded so far as to keep his features firm; but his cheeks, which ordinarily were tinted with pink, had turned to a dead-looking yellow. "I should be greatly obliged if you would come with me for a walk," he said to Eve; "I have travelled down from Gary Hundred this morning, and, after being shut up in the train, you know, one feels the need of fresh air." He rose, and gave first one leg and then the other a little shake, with a pathetic pretence of preparing for vigorous exercise.