Lup moved again, and this time she heard him and came to his bed, and when she looked at him he was not afraid any more, for her eyes, when they rested on her son, saw nothing beyond. “Nay, what Mother, you’ll get your death of cold!” he broke out in his deep voice. “Get back to your bed. You’ll have the old man seeking you.” She stayed a moment longer, looking at his ruffled head and drowsy eyes, but she did not speak or stoop to kiss him--only at last stretched out one of her strange, worn hands and smoothed the sheet under his throat. Lying in the dark when the door had closed, he heard her in the passage. “_One!_” she said again, like the numb stroke of a passing-bell; and through the silent house he followed the piteous voice: “How long? How many? How long?” CHAPTER XI THE TROUBLE COMING--THE GREEN GATES OF VISION: III. MOONLIGHT “Lancelot is a different creature to-day!” Helwise observed, hitting hard at the empty air, and getting the ball in her left eye for her pains. “Almost cheery and inclined to gambol--oh, I _am_ sorry! Did it hurt? He was a little put out at breakfast, when the Duchess of Saddleback returned him a sixpenny postal order I had meant for a Home Tattle Limerick, instead of the subscription he had told me to send for her Cemetery Bazaar--Armer, please, _over_ my head, not _at_ it!--but of course anybody might do a thing like that, anybody, I mean, as busy as I am. It was the Duchess’s letter that upset him--I don’t know why, because it was charmingly friendly and polite. Said she hoped the sixpence wouldn’t be too late to win him the competition--nice of her, wasn’t it? What do _you_ think? Lancelot says that now he’ll have to double his donation, though I can’t see any reason for it myself. Still, he didn’t really show temper about it, and I didn’t in the least mind asking him to check the month’s groceries directly afterwards. Of course, I can’t say that he showed any _joie de vivre_--I _do_ think he’s lacking in _joie de vivre_--but he got the groceries to come out all right, and do you mind if we stop?--the ball’s caught in my hair-net.” “Glad to hear he’s recovered!” Harriet returned, watching impatiently while Dandy set her hostess at liberty. “He was just about the limit, that day at Watters. Never saw such a jaundiced old crab-apple in my life! Rotten of him, though, not to turn up to bumble.” “He’s gone to see his lordship off--your service, I think, Miss Shaw--but he should be back presently. He sent me down some flowers, this morning--his lordship, I mean--and a message to say he was prevented from calling. He makes a point of coming in to see me, as a rule, and I tell him all the things that want doing to the house, and we get on splendidly! I sent him an invitation to bumble, but something always seems to stop him. Last time it was toothache, and the time before it was a hair-cut or a motor-smash or some other very close shave.”