"
"Will is safe and well," said Linnet, "and father and mother."
"And Morris--I shall find a letter for me at home, I expect. I suppose
his mother had hers last night. How she lives in him! She loves him
more than any of us. But what kind of a feeling have you?"
"I don't know."
"You are tired and want to go to sleep," said Marjorie, practically.
"I'll sing you to sleep after supper. Or read to you! We have 'Stepping
Heavenward' to read. That will make you forget all your nonsense."
"Hollis' face isn't nonsense."
"He hasn't talked to me since last night. I didn't see him in church."
"I did. And that is what I mean. I should think his trouble was about
Will, if I hadn't the letter. And Father Rheid! Do you see how fidgety
he is? He has been over here four times to-day."
"He is always stern."
"No; he isn't. Not like this. And Mother Rheid looked so--too."
"How?" laughed Marjorie. "O, you funny Linnet."
"I wish I could laugh at it. But I heard something, too. Mother Rheid was
talking to mother after church this afternoon, and I heard her say,
'distressing.' Father Rheid hurried me into the sleigh, and mother put
her veil down; and I was too frightened to ask questions."
"She meant that she had a distressing cold," said Marjorie lightly.
"'Distressing' is one of her pet words. She is distressed over the
coldness of the church, and she is distressed when all her eggs do not
hatch. I wouldn't be distressed about that, Linnet. And mother put her
veil down because the wind was blowing I put mine down, too.
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