“But, Aunt Kirsteen, this haunting is dreadful.  I can’t bear to see it.”

“My dear, Derek is very highly strung, and he’s been ill.  It’s in my family to see things.  That’ll go away.”

Nedda said passionately: 

“I don’t believe he’ll ever lose it while he goes on here, tearing his heart out.  And they’re trying to get me away from him.  I know they are!”

Kirsteen turned; her eyes seemed to blaze.

“They?  Ah!  Yes!  You’ll have to fight if you want to marry a rebel, Nedda!”

Nedda put her hands to her forehead, bewildered.  “You see, Nedda, rebellion never ceases.  It’s not only against this or that injustice, it’s against all force and wealth that takes advantage of its force and wealth.  That rebellion goes on forever.  Think well before you join in.”

Nedda turned away.  Of what use to tell her to think when ’I won’t—­ I can’t be parted from him!’ kept every other thought paralyzed.  And she pressed her forehead against the cross-bar of the window, trying to find better words to make her appeal again.  Out there above the orchard the sky was blue, and everything light and gay, as the very butterflies that wavered past.  A motor-car seemed to have stopped in the road close by; its whirring and whizzing was clearly audible, mingled with the cooings of pigeons and a robin’s song.  And suddenly she heard her aunt say: 

“You have your chance, Nedda!  Here they are!”

Nedda turned.  There in the doorway were her Uncles John and Stanley coming in, followed by her father and Uncle Tod.

What did this mean?  What had they come for?  And, disturbed to the heart, she gazed from one to the other.  They had that curious look of people not quite knowing what their reception will be like, yet with something resolute, almost portentous, in their mien.  She saw John go up to her aunt and hold out his hand.

“I dare say Felix and Nedda have told you about yesterday,” he said.  “Stanley and I thought it best to come over.”  Kirsteen answered: 

“Tod, will you tell Mother who’s here?”

Then none of them seemed to know quite what to say, or where to look, till Frances Freeland, her face all pleased and anxious, came in.  When she had kissed them they all sat down.  And Nedda, at the window, squeezed her hands tight together in her lap.

“We’ve come about Derek,” John said.

“Yes,” broke in Stanley.  “For goodness’ sake, Kirsteen, don’t let’s have any more of this!  Just think what would have happened yesterday if that poor fellow hadn’t providentially gone off the hooks!”

“Providentially!”

“Well, it was.  You see to what lengths Derek was prepared to go.  Hang it all!  We shouldn’t have been exactly proud of a felon in the family.”

Frances Freeland, who had been lacing and unlacing her fingers, suddenly fixed her eyes on Kirsteen.