Will Rheid was walking as slowly toward his
home as Linnet was toward hers.
Miss Prudence made a picture all by herself in her plain black dress,
with no color or ornament save the red rose in her black crape scarf, as
she sat upright in the rush-bottomed, straight-backed chair in the entry
before the wide-open door. Her eyes were towards the two who had parted
so reluctantly on the bridge over the brook. Marjorie danced away to find
her mother, suddenly remembering to ask if she might share the spare
chamber with Miss Prudence, that is--if Linnet did not want to very much.
Marjorie never wanted to do anything that Linnet wanted to very much.
Opening the gate Linnet came in slowly, with her eyes still on the
ground, shut the gate, and stood looking off into space; then becoming
aware of the still figure on the piazza hurried toward it.
Linnet's eyes were stirred with a deeper emotion than had ever moved her
before; Miss Prudence did not remember her own face twenty years ago, but
she remembered her own heart.
Will Rheid was a good young fellow, honest and true; Miss Prudence
stifled her sigh and said, "Well, dear" as the young girl came and stood
beside her chair.
"I was wishing--I was saying to Will, just now, that I wished there was a
list of things in the Bible to pray about, and then we might be sure that
we were asking right."
"And what did he say?"
"He said he'd ask anyhow, and if it came, it was all right, and if it
didn't, he supposed that was all right, too.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146