Witherspoon's voice bade him enter.
Mrs.Witherspoon was sitting on a sofa; young Henry was on his knees, and his head was in her lap.

Witherspoon and Ellen were standing near.
"He is like my father's people," the mother said, fondly stroking his hair.

"All the Springers were light." She looked at DeGolyer, and her eyes were soft, but for him they no longer held the glow of a mother's love.

DeGolyer put down his bag near the door.
"Mr.Witherspoon, I hardly know what to say.

I came to this house as a lie, but I shall leave it as a truth.