1It never rains but it pours. After saying good-by to Moses, Leander and Sarah came home to find this letter from Coverly on the hall table.

2“Dear Mother and Father, I have gone away with Moses. I know that I should have told you and that not telling you was like lying but this is only the second lie I have ever told and I will never tell another. The other lie I told was about the screwdriver with the black handle. I stole it from Tinicum’s hardware store. I love Moses so much that I couldn’t be in St. Botolphs if he wasn’t there. But we are not going to be together because we thought that if we separated we would have a better chance of proving our self-reliance to Cousin Honora. I am going to New York and work for Cousin Mildred’s husband in his carpet factory and as soon as I have a place to live in I will write and tell you my address. I have twenty-five dollars.

3“I love you both and would not want to hurt your feelings and I know there is no place finer in the world than St. Botolphs and our house and when I have made my mark I am coming back. I wouldn’t be happy anywhere else. But now I am old enough to go out in the world and make my fortune. I can tell this because I have so many ideas about life where I never had any ideas before. I have taken the framed copy of Kiplings IF with me and I will think about this and about all the great men I have read about and I will go to Church.

4“Your loving son, Coverly.”

5And two days later Rosalie’s parents telephoned to say that they would pick up Rosalie in an hour. They were driving to Oysterville. Soon after this a long black car that would have opened Emerson Cavis’ eyes came up the driveway at West Farm and Rosalie ran down the path to greet her parents. “Where did you get that green dress?” Sarah heard Mrs. Young ask her daughter. It was the first or at least the second thing she said. Then they got out of the car and Rosalie, blushing and as confused and embarrassed as a child, introduced them to Sarah. As soon as Mrs. Young had shaken Sarah’s hand she turned to Rosalie and asked, “Guess what I found yesterday? I found your scarab bracelet. I found it in my top bureau drawer. Yesterday morning before we had planned to go to Oysterville I decided to clean out my top bureau drawer. I just took the whole thing and dumped it out onto my bed—just dumped it out onto my bed and lo and behold there was your scarab bracelet.”

6“I’ll go up and finish packing,” said Rosalie, blushing and blushing, and she went in, leaving Sarah with her parents. The rector was a pursy man in clericals and sure enough, while they stood there, he began to scratch his stomach. Sarah disliked quick and unkind judgments and yet there seemed to be some striking stiffness and dryness in the man and something so pompous, monotonous and crusty in the notes of his voice that she felt irritable. Mrs. Young was a short woman, a little plump, and decked out with furs, gloves and a hat sewn with pearls—one of those middle-aged women of means, it seems, whose emptyheadedness smacks of tragedy. “The funny thing about the scarab bracelet,” she said, “was that I thought Rosalie lost it in Europe. She went abroad last year, you know. Eight countries. Well, I thought she lost her bracelet in Europe and I was so surprised to find it in my bureau drawer.”

7“Won’t you come in?” Sarah asked.

8“No thank you, no thank you. It’s a quaint old house, I can see that. I love quaint old things. And some day when I’m old and James has retired I’m going to buy a quaint, run-down old house like this and do it all over myself. I love quaint old run-down places.”

9The priest cleared his throat and felt for his wallet. “We have a little pecuniary matter to settle,” he said, “before Rosalie comes down. I’ve talked it over with Mrs. Young. We thought that twenty dollars might help repay you for …” Then Sarah began to cry, to cry for them all—Coverly, Rosalie and Moses and the stupid priest—and she felt such a sharp pain in her breast that it seemed as if she was weaning her children. “Oh, you must excuse me for crying,” she sobbed. “I’m terribly sorry. You must excuse me. —

10“Well, here’s thirty dollars then,” the priest said, handing her the bills.

11“Oh, I don’t know what’s come over me,” Sarah sobbed. “Oh dear. Oh dear.” She threw the money into the garden. “I’ve never been so insulted in my life,” she sobbed, and went into the house.

12Upstairs in the spare room Rosalie, like Mrs. Wapshot, was crying. Her bags were packed but Sarah found her lying face down on the bed and she sat beside her and put a hand tenderly on her back. “You poor child,” she said. “I’m afraid they’re not very nice.”

13Then Rosalie raised her head and spoke, to Sarah’s astonishment, in anger. “Oh, I don’t think you should talk like that about people’s parents,” she said. “I mean they are my parents, after all, and I don’t think it’s very nice of you to say that you don’t like them. I mean I don’t think that’s very fair. After all they’ve done everything for me like sending me to Allendale and Europe and everybody says he’s going to be a bishop and …” She turned then and looked at Sarah tearfully and kissed her good-by on the cheek. Her mother was calling her name up the stairs. “Good-by, Mrs. Wapshot,” she said, “and please say good-by to Lulu and Mr. Wapshot for me. I’ve had a perfectly divine time.…” Then to her mother she called, “I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming,” and she banged with her suitcases down the stairs.