After a few minutes' chat, Dexie left the room to return home, but Lancy
was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and he drew her into the parlor,
saying:
"Stay with me a little while, Dexie, do; no one will disturb us here, and I
want to have a 'sing.' Your father or Gussie are sure to be in the parlor
if we go into your house."
"Well, it will have to be a short 'sing,' Lancy, for the drive in the wind
has made me sleepy."
When Mrs. Gurney passed the door a few minutes later, and peeped into the
dimly lighted room to listen to the soft strains that met her ears, she
smiled and softly withdrew, for Lancy was seated at the instrument, and
Dexie stood by his side, her hand resting carelessly on his shoulder, while
they sang what Mrs. Gurney knew was their private thanksgiving.
As the last notes died away, Lancy turned on the music-stool and took her
hand; Dexie's thoughts had been so engrossed that, for the moment, she let
it rest there, when she heard the low-spoken words: "I want to tell you
something, Dexie."
Instantly Elsie's words flashed into her mind, and she tried to break away
from the arm that encircled her waist.
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