The wiser boy says, ‘Mother’s a darling, but she doesn’t need me as much as you do.’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘That’s all right. I’m glad she’s so keen about that game, though.’ He has returned to the ingle-nook when Laura comes in, eager to make amends to Dick’s father if she hurt him when she went out. Softly, ‘I have come to say good-night, Mr. Don.’ ‘It’s nice of you, Laura,’ taking both her hands. Dick speaks. ‘I want her to come nearer to the fire; I can’t see her very well there.’ For a moment Mr. Don is caught out again; but Laura has heard nothing. He becomes quite cunning in Dick’s interests. ‘Your hands are cold, Laura; go over to the fire. I want to look at you.’ She sits on the hearthstone by Dick’s feet. Shyly, ‘Am I all right?’ It is Dick who answers. ‘You’re awfully pretty, Laura. You are even prettier than I thought. I remember I used to think, she can’t be quite as pretty as I think her; and then when you came you were just a little prettier.’ She has been warming her hands. ‘Why don’t you say anything?’ she asks Mr. Don. ‘I was thinking of you and Dick, Laura.’ ‘What a pretty soul she has, father,’ says the boy; ‘I can see right down into it now.’ ‘If Dick had lived, Laura, do you think that you and he----?’ With shining eyes, ‘I think--if he had wanted it very much.’ ‘I expect he would, my dear.’ There is an odd candour about Dick’s contribution, ‘I think so, too, but I never was quite sure.’ They are a very young pair. Laura is trembling a little. ‘Mr. Don----’ ‘Yes, Laura?’ ‘I think there is something wicked about me. I sometimes feel--quite light-hearted--though Dick has gone.’ ‘Perhaps, nowadays, the fruit trees have that sort of shame when they blossom, Laura; but they can’t help doing it. I hope you are yet to be a happy woman, a happy wife.’ ‘It seems so heartless to Dick.’ ‘Not a bit; it’s what I should like,’ Dick says. ‘It’s what he would like, Laura.’ ‘Do you remember, Laura,’ Dick goes on, ‘I kissed you once. It was under a lilac in the Loudon Woods. I knew at the time that you were angry, and I should have apologised. I’m sorry, Laura.’ His sweetheart has risen, tasting something bitter-sweet. ‘What is it, Laura?’ Mr. Don asks. ‘Somehow--I don’t know how--but, for a moment I seemed to feel the smell of lilac. Dick was once--nice to me under a lilac. Oh, Mr. Don----’ She goes to him like a child, and he soothes and pets her. ‘There, there! That will be all right, quite all right.’ He takes her to the door. ‘Good-night, my dear.’ ‘Good-night, Mr. Don.’ ‘Good-bye, Laura,’ says the third voice.