"Are you better now, Ernst?"
"Yes, Mamma, I am much better."
She looked very glad, as though a flood of light were shining around her:
"Don't you hear . . . any of those . . . of those strange things?"
"No, Mamma," he answered, smiling gently.
"And don't you see . . . don't you see any . . . of those strange things?"
"No, Mamma."
"That's good."
She said it with grateful, shining eyes, the flood of light making everything very clear.
"I have been very strange, I believe," Ernst admitted, softly and shyly.
"That's all cured now, Ernst," said Constance.
"But Aunt Lot?" asked Mamma. "What's become of her . . . and the girls?"
"They've gone to Java, Mamma."
"To Java? . . ."
"Yes, don't you remember? They came and said good-bye last week. They'll be back in twelve months. . . . Don't you remember? They thought they could live more cheaply in India. . . ."
"Yes, yes, I remember," said the old woman. "India . . . I wish I could go there myself. . . ."
She felt as if she must go there to have warmth in and around her. And yet . . . Ernst was back; and at the card-tables were Karel and Cateau;
