“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.

“I don’t understand very well, darling, but I am sure that whatever dear John says will be wise and right.  You must remember that he is the eldest and has a great deal of experience.”

Kirsteen bent her head.  If there was irony in the gesture, it was not perceived by Frances Freeland.

“It can’t be right for dear Derek, or any gentleman, to go against the law of the land or be mixed up with wrong-doing in any way.  I haven’t said anything, but I have felt it very much.  Because—­it’s all been not quite nice, has it?”

Nedda saw her father wince.  Then Stanley broke in again: 

“Now that the whole thing’s done with, do, for Heaven’s sake, let’s have a little peace!”

At that moment her aunt’s face seemed wonderful to Nedda; so quiet, yet so burningly alive.

“Peace!  There is no peace in this world.  There is death, but no peace!” And, moving nearer to Tod, she rested her hand on his shoulder, looking, as it seemed to Nedda, at something far away, till John said: 

“That’s hardly the point, is it?  We should be awfully glad to know that there’ll be no more trouble.  All this has been very worrying.  And now the cause seems to be—­removed.”

There was always a touch of finality in John’s voice.  Nedda saw that all had turned to Kirsteen for her answer.

“If those up and down the land who profess belief in liberty will cease to filch from the helpless the very crust of it, the cause will be removed.”

“Which is to say—­never!”

At those words from Felix, Frances Freeland, gazing first at him and then at Kirsteen, said in a pained voice: 

“I don’t think you ought to talk like that, Kirsteen, dear.  Nobody who’s at all nice means to be unkind.  We’re all forgetful sometimes.  I know I often forget to be sympathetic.  It vexes me dreadfully!”

“Mother, don’t defend tyranny!”

“I’m sure it’s often from the best motives, dear.”

“So is rebellion.”

“Well, I don’t understand about that, darling.  But I do think, with dear John, it’s a great pity.  It will be a dreadful drawback to Derek if he has to look back on something that he regrets when he’s older.  It’s always best to smile and try to look on the bright side of things and not be grumbly-grumbly!”