That morning at breakfast Charles Buford reached for the plate of Mama’s scones. Matthew gave him a smile and a very decided shake of his head, moving the plate to his mother’s elbow. Charles Buford grimaced in Matthew’s direction.

Charlotte gave him a distracted smile, then returned to contemplating the tablecloth. She was in a brown study. Matthew wished he could say that was an unusual occurrence these days, but it was not. For months there had been something wrong in the atmosphere of home, with not only his mother but his father and even Charles Buford looking abstracted and occasionally snapping at Matthew. Sometimes Matthew dreaded the thought of what he might be told: that it was time he knew the truth, that his mother was going away forever. Sometimes Matthew thought if he only knew, he could bear it.

“My dear,” said Papa. “Are you feeling well?”

“Perfectly, Henry,” said Mama.

Matthew loved his father beyond reason, but he knew him. He was well aware that there were times when the entire family could have had their heads replaced with parakeet heads and Papa would simply tell the parakeet heads all about his latest experiment.

Now his father was watching his mother with worried eyes. Matthew could picture him saying, Please, Charlotte. Do not leave me.

His heart lurched in his chest. Matthew folded his napkin three times over in his hands and said: “Could somebody tell me—”

Then the door opened, and Gideon Lightwood came in. Mr. Lightwood. Matthew refused to think or speak of him as Uncle Gideon any longer.

“What are you doing here?” said Matthew.

“Sir!” Mama said sharply. “Really, Matthew, call him sir.”

“What are you doing here?” said Matthew. “Sir.”

Mr. Gideon Lightwood had the cheek to give Matthew a brief smile before he walked over and put his hand on Mama’s shoulder. In front of Matthew’s papa.

“Always a pleasure to see you, sir,” said Charles Buford, that wretch. “May I serve you some kippers?”

“No, no, not at all, I already ate breakfast,” said Mr. Lightwood. “I merely thought to accompany Charlotte through the Portal to Idris.”

Mama smiled properly for Mr. Lightwood, as she had not for Matthew. “That’s very kind, Gideon, though not necessary.”

“It is most necessary,” said Mr. Lightwood. “A lady should always have the escort of a gentleman.”

His voice was teasing. Matthew usually waited until after breakfast to take his father down in his chair to his laboratory, but he could not bear this.

“I must see James at once upon urgent business!” he declared, bolting upright.

He slammed the door of the breakfast parlor shut behind him, but not before he heard Mama apologize for him, and Mr. Lightwood say: “Oh, that is all right. The age he is at is a difficult one. Believe me, I remember it well.”