These small interests quieted the rector, and he was able soon to reason himself into the belief that his niece's return was a trifling affair, perhaps a little uncomfortable, and certainly silly, but he would soon make it all right; so that when he saw her coming slowly down-stairs, with Lois creeping after her, almost afraid to speak, he was able to greet her very tranquilly.
"Are you rested, my child?
After breakfast, we'll have a good talk, and everything shall be straightened out." Breakfast was a dreary affair.

Helen's abstraction was too profound for her to make even the pretense of eating.

Once or twice, when Lois's voice pierced through the clouds and reached her heart, she looked up, and tried to reply.

But they were all glad when it was over, and the rector put his arm gently over his niece's shoulders, and drew her into the library.
"If any one comes, Lois," he said, "you had better just say Helen changed her mind about going yesterday, and has come back for a few days." "No," interrupted Helen slowly.

"You had better say what is the truth, Lois.