Dick and Charlie joined. A happy time they had, singing everything they knew. Kathie had become a very fair musician already.
While the little ones were hunting up their wraps, Kathie lingered a moment beside Charlie.
"How is Miss Jessie to-night?" she asked.
"Quite well." Then, looking into her eyes, "You have heard—"
"About Mr. Meredith? yes."
"It is too bad,—isn't it? And he has had a substitute in the war. I think he ought to have come back."
Kathie was silent. How much duty did a man or a woman owe to these great life questions? And was there not something grander and finer in this last act of heroism than many people were capable of? If she could have chosen for him, like Charlie, she would have desired his return; but if every wife and every mother felt so about their soldiers?
She kissed Ethel with a peculiar sympathy when she bade her good night. Mr. Morrison was well and satisfied with the new life,—liked it, indeed.
For the next fortnight it seemed to Kathie that nothing happened,—school life and home life, and she a little pendulum vibrating between the two, waiting for some hour to strike.
She answered Sarah's letter, and promised that she and her uncle would drive up when there came a pleasant Saturday with the roads in comfortable order.