TO THE LIGHTHOUSE

ing, among the children. All would be as usual,
save only for some quiver, as of a blade in the air,
which came and went between them as if the
usual sight of the children sitting round their
soup plates had freshened itself in their eyes after
that hour among the pears and the cabbages.
Especially, Lily thought, Mrs. Ramsay would
glance at Prue. She sat in the middle between
brothers and sisters, always so occupied, it
seemed, seeing that nothing went wrong that she
scarcely spoke herself. How Prue must have
blamed herself for that earwig in the milk! How
white she had gone when Mr, Ramsay threw his
plate through the window! How she drooped
under those long silences between them! Any-
how, her mother now would seem to be making
it up to her; assuring her that everything was
well; promising her that one of these days that
same happiness would be hers. She had enjoyed
it for less than a year, however.

She had let the flowers fall from her basket,
Lily thought, screwing up her eyes and standing
back as if to look at her picture, which she was
not touching, however, with all her faculties in a
trance, frozen over superficially but moving
underneath with extreme speed.

She let her flowers fall from her basket,
scattered and tumbled them on to the grass and,
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