"No, I'm not. Not a bit. I never held with those old sayings but it did give me a start." She still held Anne's hand and stroked it, reluctant to relinquish the comfort of reality.
"Do I look like a ghost?"
"You certainly do not. My, but you're a different girl altogether. Papa will be surprised."
Anne laughed. "If my appearance has the same effect on him as it had on you, you'd better prepare him. Did he hear the dog too?"
"Go on with you. I don't believe those things. No, I don't think he did. Papa sleeps fine now. He's better a lot too. He got down onto the landing yesterday and sat in the sun for an hour."
"Papa! Got down those stairs to the landing! He must be improved."
"He is," Hilda said with subdued pride. "Papa's changed in the last two months, Annie. He's different—in a great many ways. He's more like he was—at first—before you children were born. You won't know papa in some ways."
"Hardly, if he's like he was before I was born. Perhaps we'll have to be introduced."
Hilda smiled, but Anne saw under the amusement a kind of glad possession and knew that a new link had been forged between her father and mother. For an instant, loneliness touched her and she wondered what these months had done to Roger. She had changed. Her mother and father had changed. Had Roger changed too?
"I'm dying to see Rogie. Shall I go in or do you want to tell papa first?"