“Not exactly. They’re striving after something, but they don’t yet know what it is. It’s interesting, I think. I like to hear them propound their views.”

“I find them rather boring,” she sighed.

“Poor little sweetheart! You must just learn to laugh at them, as I do. Then they become funny.”

After the Tyrells came Mrs. Ramsay, with Thomas. Elizabeth dreaded a dog-fight, but she was assured that Thomas was well acquainted with Hector, and Jerry, and Flo. Mrs. Ramsay sprang from her cart into her son’s arms, and hugged him.

“My darlings, I’m so pleased to see you again! How beautifully the trees have turned! Elizabeth, does the Halt hold an awful fascination for you? It does for me— especially when I’m away from it. Dear Nana, I think I’ve lost my hat-box. Do you suppose it can have jumped out of the car?”

“No, madam. You’ve left it behind,” Nana said with conviction.

“Perhaps I have. How tiresome! Stephen, have you grown, or is it because I haven’t seen you for over a month?”

They took her into the house; she noticed little changes, and remarked on them, approvingly. But when Elizabeth went with her upstairs she walked straight to Elizabeth’s room, and then checked, laughing.

“How silly of me! Please, where am I to go?”

“It must seem very funny—for you to come to your own home—with me here,” Elizabeth said. “I prepared the Blue room for you. I thought that would be nicest.” She opened the door for Mrs. Ramsay to pass through.

“My dear, this is positively thrilling!” Mrs. Ramsay said. “I’ve never slept here before. Thank you for putting those flowers on the table. Oh, here’s Nana! Nana, must I unpack, or will you?”

“It would be a nice thing if I let you do it, madam! If you go along down to tea I’ll see to your things. Have you lost your keys, or shall I find them in your handbag?”

“I don’t know at all,” Mrs. Ramsay said brightly. Then she took Elizabeth’s arm, and went out with her.

After tea she explored the house. When she saw the made bed in Stephen’s dressing-room she paused for a moment in her flow of conversation, but picked up the thread almost immediately. In Elizabeth’s room she pottered about, looking at photographs, and fiddling with the ornaments upon the mantelpiece. Suddenly she looked up at Elizabeth, and spoke lightly, yet with anxiety in her voice.

“Darling, don’t you sleep together?”

Elizabeth blushed hotly.

“It’s—Stephen thought—while he’s writing—I mean, he sits up so late. He was afraid it—it disturbed me. It’s only—for a time.”

“Yes, of course. I see. You are happy, aren’t you, Elizabeth?”

“Yes, I’m very happy,” Elizabeth said. “Did Stephen tell you that Father and Auntie came to stay with us?”