len had come and put out our light,
I lay a-thinking of the empty room. Strange, when people went away and left
you, how Something stayed behind! A shadowy, wistful something, that
smelled of kid gloves!

We slept till ten next morning. Mary Ellen superintended our baths. We were
in a state to behold, she said, and she was apprehensive lest Mrs.
Handsomebody should observe my swollen nose, for the big boy's fist had
somewhat enlarged that unobtrusive feature.

"Jist say ye've a bit of feverish cold if she remarks it," she cautioned,
"people often swells up wid colds."

We ate our bread and strawberry jam and milk from one end of the dining
table. We heaped the bread with sugar, and stirred the jam into our milk.
After breakfast, we played at knights and robbers in the schoolroom. It was
a raw morning, and a Scotch mist dimmed the window pane.

Angel and I were in the midst of a terrific fight over a princess whom he
was bearing off to his robber cave (The Seraph, draped in a chenille
table-cover, impersonating the princess) when we were interrupted by the
tinkle of the dinner bell.

How the morning had flown! Had she returned then? Was the funeral over? Had
she heard our shouts? We descended the stairs with some misgivings and
entered the dining-room in single file.

Yes, she was there, standing by the table, her black dress looking blacker
than ever! After a dry little kiss on each of our foreheads, she motioned
us to seat ourselves, and took her own accustomed place behind the tea
things. There was a solemn click of knives and forks. Mary Ellen waited on
us primly. It was not to be thought that this was the same room in which we
had feasted so uproariously on the night previous.

Yet I stared at Mrs. Handsomebody and marvelled that she should suspect
nothing. Did she get no whiff of the furry smell of Anita? Did no faint
echo of Tony's music disturb her thoughts? What were her thoughts? Deep
ones I was sure, for her brow was knit. Was she thinking of that brother on
whom the Scotch mist was falling so remorselessly?

The Seraph was speaking.

"It's a vewy bad fing to be dead," he was saying reminiscently--, "you
can't eat, you can't dwink, an' you jus' fly awound lookin' for somefing to
light on!"

I trembled for him, but Mrs. Handsomebody, lost in thought, gave no heed to
him.

At last she raised her eyes.

"I hope you behaved yourselves well, and made profitable use of your time
during my absence?"