Indeed, this idea of appealing to her grandfather had come the instant before when she heard his voice outside interrupting Piqueur's song. She limped swiftly across the space toward the window, she leaned far out and called to her grandfather, who stood in the courtyard below, gravely inspecting the lame mare that the boy had brought from the stable. So intent was Felicia with her question that she forgot her recent fear of the Major. "Grandy!" she called, her clear tones ringing down to him, "Grandy, you will have to come and send this Margot away--you will--" He came up the stairs to her slowly, pausing formally outside her door to tap for Margot to open for him; but even before he was in the room, looking very pale and stern and old with his beautiful head lifted high above the ruffled shirt and his peaked hat held in his hand, the girl's eager appeal had begun. "This Margot," Felicia's words tumbled impetuously, "She's been telling me lies--she says Maman isn't here--that she isn't in the garden--or in the house--she says she--" "You'd better stay, Margot," said Major Trenton, "I think Miss Felicia will need you. Felicia, let Margot wrap that gown about you, it's chilly here. Felicia, we do not know how to make you understand about your mother--we did not want to make you sad when you were little so I did not tell you. It was her wish that I should not distress you--" his face worked pitifully, "--with the manner of her going--what she said to you about the garden--you did not understand, my dear--She had a notion, my little Octavia, that we do not die--that only our bodies die--many other people believe this--are you listening, Felicia? She thought that her spirit," he groped for words, "the Something she called the 'Happy part of her' couldn't--'stop'--as she called it--she said-" his lips were quivering, "that part of her would always try to stay in the house where you lived so long and in this garden and house in which she lived when she was young--like you--that is all--What Margot tells you is quite true--she is not living--she has not been living since you were eleven--she died--" his words trailed miserably, "She is not living--" he repeated feebly. The girl's eyes had never left his since he had begun his inadequate explanation, she did not cry out, she merely stood there, pale, unbelieving and stared at him. "And she said the Happy Part of her would be here?" He nodded. "Then," said Felicia calmly, "If she said so, she will, and you and Margot are both stupid and bad to tell me that she won't--If you will find my shoes--" she turned petulantly to Margot, "I will walk until I find her--" "But you cannot find her, she is gone--" the deep agony of his voice rang in the great room, "Quite gone--" "Where has she gone?" demanded Felice stubbornly. He gestured his despair.