He had had no lunch, so old Mary fixed a tray for him. He did not eat, but drank some milk. Then he and Rusty took up their restless wandering through the silent rooms. Old Mary, true to tradition, had drawn all the blinds and shut many of the windows, so that the house was filled with a sort of golden gloom. Evans went into his mother’s little office on the first floor, and sat down at her desk. It was in perfect order, and laid out on the blotter was the writing paper with the golden crest, and the box of golden seals. And he had laughed at her! He remembered with a pang that they would never again laugh together. He was alone. He wondered why such things happened. Was all of life as sinister as this? Must one always find tragedy at every turn of the road? He had lost his youth, had lost Jane. And now his mother. Was everything to be taken away? Would there be nothing left but strength to endure? Well, God helping him, he would endure to the end.... He closed the desk gently and went out into the darkened hall. As he followed its length, a door opened at the end. Black against the brightness beyond, he saw the two lads. They came forward with some hesitation, but when they saw his tired face, they forgot self-consciousness. “We just heard. And we want to help.” Sandy was spokesman. Arthur was speechless. But he caught hold of Evans’ sleeve and looked up at him. His eyes said what his voice refused. Evans, with his arms across their shoulders, drew the boys to him. “It was good of you to come.” “Miss Barnes said,” again it was Sandy who spoke, “that perhaps we might get some pine from the little grove. That your mother liked it.” “Miss Barnes? Is she back? Does she know?” “We told her. She is coming right over.” Baldy drove Jane in his little car. As she entered she seemed to bring the light in with her. She illumined the house like a torch. She walked swiftly towards Evans, and held out her hand. “My dear, I am so sorry.” “I thought you were at Grass Hills.” “We came back unexpectedly.” “I am so glad--you came.” He was having a bad time with his voice. He could not go on.... Jane spoke to the boys. “Did you ask him about the pine branches? Just those, and roses from the garden, Evans.” “You always think of things----” “Baldy will take the boys to the grove, and do any errands you may have for him.” She was her calm and competent self--letting him get control of his emotion while she directed others. Baldy, coming in, wrung Evans’ hand. “The boys and I will get the pine, and Edith Towne is coming out to help. I called her up to tell her----” Baldy stopped at that. He could not speak here of the glory that encompassed him. He had said, “_If death should come to us, Edith! Does anything else count?_” And she had said, “_Nothing._” And now she was coming and they would pick roses together in the garden. And love and life would minister to a greater mystery....