The events of the day
were rapidly reviewed: that Isabel had not spoken with her after
breakfast; that she had gone to service at an unusual hour and had
left the church before the sermon; that she had effaced herself at
dinner and at once thereafter had gone up to her rooms, where she
still remained.

Returning to the sofa she lay down, having first rung her bell.
When the maid appeared, she rubbed her eyelids and sat sleepily up
as though just awakened: she remembered that she had eavesdropped,
and the maid must be persuaded that she had not. Guilt is a bad
logician.

"Where is your Miss Isabel?"

"She is in her room, Miss Henrietta."

"Go up and tell her that I say come down into the parlors: it is
cooler down here. And ask her whether she'd like some sherbet. And
bring me some--bring it before you go."

A few moments later the maid reentered with the sherbet. She
lifted the cut-glass dish from the silver waiter with soft purrings
of the palate, and began to attack the minute snow mountain around
the base and up the sides with eager jabs and stabs, depositing the
spoonfuls upon a tongue as fresh as a child's. Momentarily she
forgot even her annoyance; food instantly absorbed and placated her
as it does the carnivora.

The maid reentered.

"She says she doesn't wish any sherbet, Miss Henrietta."

"Did she say she would come down?"

"She did not say, Miss Henrietta."

"Go back and tell her I'd like to see her: ask her to come down
into the parlors." Then she hurried hack to the sherbet. She
wanted her granddaughter, but she wanted that first.

Her thoughts ascended meantime to Isabel in the room above. She
finished the sherbet. She waited. Impatience darkened to
uneasiness and anger. Still she waited; and her finger nails began
to scratch audibly at the mahogany of her chair and a light to burn
in the tawny eyes.

In the room overhead Isabel's thoughts all this time were
descending to her grandmother. Before the message was delivered
it had been her intention to go down. Once she had even reached
the head of the staircase; but then had faltered and shrunk
back. When the message came, it rendered her less inclined to
risk the interview. Coming at such an hour, that message was
suspicious. She, moreover, naturally had learned to dread her
grandmother's words when they looked most innocent. Thus she,
too, waited--lacking the resolution to descend.

As she walked homeward from church she r