Nell had ceased to talk of the dear departed dead and was enjoying her third pulley-bone. (“The white meat at the breast is the only part that agrees with me—thank you, dear Leon.”) and wondering if the potato salad had gone a little rancid in the heat when Lovey entered, and going directly to Sarah’s chair, announced that her sister waited upon her in the little office.

Sarah was out of her chair and running from the room before anyone could help her. When Leon and Nell made as if to follow her, Lovey stopped them by saying, “Finish your dinner first. They haven’t seen each other a long time.”

“That’s so, Lovey,” Nell said, content to postpone her participation in the interesting surprise. She asked for a pickled peach, declaring that everyone knew that their combination of sweetness and tartness was an excellent tonic for nerves. Leon sat down again too.

Lauretta stood at a window looking out as Sarah entered, but turned hearing her sister. “Dear, dear Lauretta!” Sarah cried, rushing to her—weeping, embracing and kissing her, laughing like a child whose greediest dreams have come true on Christmas morning. Lauretta laughed and wept too, although with less fervor. The occasion was not, after all, one of surprise to her, as it was for Sarah.

“You are the same!” Sarah exclaimed. “No! You’re more beautiful than you were as a girl. Look at you! Oh, how good it is to look at you!” Suiting action to words, Sarah drew back from Lauretta and did indeed look at her. Her face went blank, and then her mouth opened in astonishment. “You’re—Leon told me that Mr. Savage had gone away—”

“It’s true. He did.”

“Did he know when he left you that you—”

Lauretta shook her head. “Nor did I.”

“Even so, he is a villain!”

“Others have called him that.”

“And so he is! The scoundrel! Leon told us only that he had gone. He did not say that it was recently, or do I recollect it wrong? Never mind; let us sit down.” Sarah drew her sister onto a sofa. “You will not have known, but Leon returned home to find his mother dead and in her coffin. So you see, it was a confused time for everyone. Leon said that he left you in good spirits and that you were determined to continue with the acting company—”

“Yes, that was so.”

“Did you know when you saw Leon that you were with child? Brave, misguided Lauretta! Did you, knowing, not tell him? Oh, my poor darling!” Lauretta wept again. It was certainly the easiest scene she had ever been called upon to enact, but it did not altogether please her. She was happy enough with Sarah’s reactions, but it was, after all her scene, as she had envisioned it anyway, and Sarah would let her get hardly a word in edgewise. “If he had known!”