A very quiet and very frightened Zoe had been packed off to Ida Blair's, through it all Lilly's stupor persisting. Mrs. Becker's state became cause for concern. Once back at the hotel, with Albert's room locked off, and once more thrown open to the impersonal feet of transiency, she would only moan and wind her hands and go off into the light states of unconsciousness. "I haven't my son any more! Why did we come? It might not have happened at home. Our daughter wronged him, but, thank God, we tried to make it up to him. My boy. He was so steady--so careful. I can't realize he's gone--without me. The way he used to come home. Never a habit--evening after evening his newspaper and bed. Thank God, I don't think he ever missed her going as he might have. It hurt at first. He wanted to resign his Bible class, and that day we broke up the house--he kept twitching with his eyes. You remember, Ben. And that bed caster. Funny to have twitched over that. It seems he brought it home the night she left--it came over him all of a sudden, it wouldn't ever have to be fitted in. That's it! O God! all these years without knowing his own child. He was so steady--a good boy if God ever grew one. Ben, Ben, how can we go home without him? How can we go home without our boy?" "Carrie, it is God's will." "It is nobody's will. God couldn't will it that way. Just as he had got a little happiness in his way. To think he was willing to take her back. I don't care for myself, we're on in years, Ben--we're done--and now we've lost our--all--nothing to live for--" "Mamma, mamma, don't talk that way. Let me try to make up to you for--" "I can't face going home. He was my life, that boy. He made up for what we suffered through our own. He was a son to us. I can't face going home without him. Albert--where are you? Albert!" "Mamma, mamma, won't you let me try to make up, dear, for what I have failed you?" "Albert--can't you hear me--Albert--" "Carrie, we've got our daughter back. Isn't that something to be--" "I want my son, I tell you." "Mamma darling, you're killing me. Let me make it up to you--even a little--the--" "No, no; you're not a daughter to me. I want my son. Our way was his way." "Mamma, please--take me home in his place. I'll make it up to you. Let me go back, dear, in Albert's place. I want to pay up--to you. I'm finished--here, dear. I'm ready--ready--" Suddenly Mrs. Becker seemed to experience one of her cyclonic shifts. Tears came raining down her face, her sobbing cleft with great racking gulps. Then she dropped to her knees beside her daughter, and, before Lilly could prevent, reached up to drag down her face against her own tear-drenched one. "Don't leave us, Lilly. Don't ever. Come home with us. We're getting old, Lilly. Don't ever leave us, me and papa. Promise me, Lilly. Promise." "Of course I promise, mamma darling. Of course I promise." CHAPTER XI