Annie knew from the light in the kitchen window that Mrs. Bolton, who had
not gone to the meeting, was there, and she inferred from the silence of
the house that Bolton had not yet come home. She went up to her room, and
after a glance at Idella asleep in her crib, she began to lay off her
things. Then she sat down provisionally by the open window, and looked out
into the still autumnal night. The air was soft and humid, with a scent of
smoke in it from remote forest fires. The village lights showed themselves
dimmed by the haze that thickened the moonless dark.

She heard steps on the gravel of the lane, and then two men talking, one
of whom she knew to be Bolton. In a little while the back entry door was
opened and shut, and after a brief murmur of voices in the library Mrs.
Bolton knocked on the door-jamb of the room where Annie sat.

"What is it, Mrs. Bolton?"

"You in bed yet?"

"No; I'm here by the window. What is it?"

"Well, I don't know but what you'll think it's pretty late for callers, but
Mr. Peck is down in the library. I guess he wants to speak with you about
Idella. I told him he better see _you_."

"I will come right down."

She followed Mrs. Bolton to the foot of the stairs, where she kept on to
the kitchen, while Annie turned into the library. Mr. Peck stood beside her
father's desk, resting one hand on it and holding his hat in the other.