She’d thought supper would never end. Then, to make matters worse, her mother hadn’t gone directly to bed after supper as she usually did; she’d decided to remain downstairs and stitch on her latest piece of needlepoint. Macia had attempted to lure her father into his library for a private conversation, but he hadn’t seemed to get the hint. If she was to hear her father’s report about his conversation with Mr. Faraday, she’d be forced to wait until her mother retired for the night. She’d tried to read, but lacked the ability to concentrate. The few times she’d been able to catch her father’s eye, he had merely smiled and continued reading his paper.When she could bear the waiting no longer, she asked to be excused. “I believe I’ll go upstairs and prepare for bed.”Her mother folded her needlepoint and placed it in her sewing basket. “Excellent idea, my dear. I believe I’ll go upstairs, too.” Mrs.Boyle kissed her husband and then took Macia by the hand.“Macia,”
