He went up the steps lightly, springily, with a sort of exuberant joy in the mere action. His canvas shoes made no sound. The stairs landed him at his own door. He brought up short. Alexina was standing midway of the threshold; he thought he heard a sob. She turned hurriedly, her hands outspread across the doorway as by instinct. "Don't," she begged; "please go away." Then as he wheeled, "No, wait--" She swallowed before she could speak. "It's Molly," she said; "can you send us back to town? she's--she's--" "Not well," the daughter was trying to say. The boy's straightforward eyes were fixed on hers inquiringly. "What's the use; I can't lie," the girl broke down miserably. "I ought not to have come with her." Her arms dropped from across the doorway. In all perplexity he was waiting. He had a glimpse of Molly within, drooping against the table, and her eyes regarding them with a kind of furtive fear. His hunting flask from out the cellarette was there on the table. The girl was speaking with effort. "I'm sorry; she must have felt bad and found it." She suddenly hid her face in her hands against the casement. That roused him. He felt dazed. It needed a woman here to feel the way. "I'll get mother," he said. "Oh," begged the girl, and quivered; "can't we get back to town without--must she know?" King was growing himself again. "Why," he said, "of all people, yes, mother." He went down the steps two at a time. There was no sensitive apprehension in his manner when he brought her back, as there often was concerning his mother; he knew her strength as well as her incompetencies. She came straight up and hardly noticed Alexina as she passed but went on to Molly, whose eyes, full of shame and fear, were dully watching the scene. Charlotte put her arms about her, drew her to the sofa, and sat by her. "Poor dear," she said; "poor dear." Molly drooped, trembled, then turned and clung to her, crying piteously. "You're sorry for me? I did it because I'm afraid. He said they all come down here to die. Malise don't know, she don't understand, she's hard." "You go down to your dinner, Alexina," said Charlotte; "it's waiting. Oh, yes, yes you will go." There was finality in the tone, very different from Charlotte's usually indefinite directions. "Leave your mother to me; oh, you needn't tell me anything about it; I know. And take that hardness out of your face, Alexina, it's your own fault if you let this embitter you, it's ourselves that let things spoil our lives, not the things. I'll tell you something, that you may believe I know, something that I told Willy at a time his arrogance seemed to need the knowledge. My father, my great, splendid, handsome father, all my life was this way. But he came straight home to my mother, and so she kept him from worse, and held him to his place in the world. Keep on loving them, it's the only way. Many a time we've all cried together like babies, father and mother and I, by her sofa."