“I used to shut my eyes as I am shutting them now, Uncle Em, when I wanted to open them just at a right place. You count three when you are ready for me to open my eyes.”
The carriage bowled along over new and smoother roads. Gloria was conscious that it was making several turns.
“One!” Uncle Em said, and Gloria drew in whiffs of warm September air.
“Two!”
Gloria was sure she heard a bird singing—of course, in a tree. “Hurry, hurry!” she said. “Say 'Three,' Uncle Em!”
“Th-ree!”
It was, after all, not much more than a hole in a wide stretch of green grass, with an uneven wall of bricks defining the excavation. But it was the beginning! The beginning!
And trees were dropping gold leaves down upon the men as they worked. The little singing bird was in one of the trees.
“Oh!” murmured Gloria, shutting her eyes again, “I can see better with my eyes shut! I can see a beautiful big house, Uncle Em—my house! It's straight and whole and—happy. I can see Rose and Hunkie at one of the windows and Sal coming down the stairs. 'Miss Districk,' you're there, too. And Dinney, don't you see, is playing on the grass!”
Mary Winship laughed a sweet, indulgent laugh.