Through these Lilac passed with always the same question: “Have you seen Mother?” Sometimes in the distance she fancied she saw a shawl of a pattern she knew well, but having pursued it, it turned out to belong to someone quite different. She had just made up her mind to go home, when one of her companions ran up to her with an excited face:
“Come along,” she cried; “they’re just agoin’ to start the races.”
Lilac hesitated. “I can’t,” she said; “I’ve got to go and look after Mother.”
“Well, it’ll be on your way,” said the other; “and you needn’t stop no longer nor you like. Come along.”
She seized Lilac’s arm and they ran on together to the flat piece of ground on the edge of the wood, where the races were to take place. The steep side of the down descended abruptly from this, and Lilac knew that by taking that way, which was quite an easy one to her active feet, she could very quickly reach home. So she stayed to look first at one race and then at another, and they all proved so amusing that the more she saw the more she wanted to see, though she still said to herself: “I’ll go after this one.” She was laughing at the struggling efforts of the boys in a sack race, when suddenly, amidst the noise of cheers and shouting which surrounded her, she heard her own name spoken in an urgent entreating voice: “Lilac—Lilac White!”
“Who is it wants me!” she said, starting up and trying to force her way through the crowd. “I’m here; what is it?” The people stood back to let her pass.
“It’s Mrs Leigh wants you,” said a woman. “She’s standing back yonder.”
It was strange to see Mrs Leigh’s beaming face look so grave and troubled, and it gave Lilac a sense of fear when she reached her.
“Is Mother here, ma’am?” was her first question. “Does she want me, please?”
Mrs Leigh did not answer quite at once, then she said very seriously: