THE WINDOW

She hoped he would not bang his books on the
floor above their heads, she thought, still thinking
how annoying Charles Tansley was. For neither
of them slept well; they were excitable children,
and since he said things like that about the Light-
house, it seemed to her likely that he would knock
a pile of books over, just as they were going to
sleep, clumsily sweeping them off the table with
his elbow. For she supposed that he had gone
upstairs to work. Yet he looked so desolate; yet
she would feel relieved when he went; yet she
would see that he was better treated to-morrow;
yet he was admirable with her husband; yet his
manners certainly wanted improving; yet she
liked his laugh—thinking this, as she came down-
stairs, she noticed that she could now see the moon
itself through the staircase window—the yellow
harvest moon—and turned, and they saw her,
standing above them on the stairs.

"That's my mother," thought Prue. Yes;
Minta should look at her; Paul Rayley should
look at her. That is the thing itself she felt, as
if there were only one person like that in the
world; her mother. And, from having been quite
grown up, a moment before, talking with the
others, she became a child again, and what they
had been doing was a game, and would her
mother sanction their game, or condemn it, she

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