She told John Bradford at their next meeting of the lure of Japan, though in her heart she was not lured. She was not "bored"; it was not a big, lonesome house in Nowhere! She would tell Cornelia Dunlap so. She would tell her that Flaggs were better than mushrooms—they earned their own living! Cornelia could run away alone to Japan to her cherry blossoms.
But John Bradford had his scare, and through him Evangeline hers. Gloom settled on Evangeline. If her beloved lady was going away—the bitter, bitter taste of life without the beloved lady! But the inspiration that flashed into Evangeline's nimble mind temporarily comforted her. She set about its carrying-out. Inspirations were sweet morsels under Evangeline's tongue.
To Miss Theodosia on her porch, telling Cornelia Dunlap that Japan had no lure, came a solemn procession across the grass. Evangeline led, with the effect of walking backward—though she walked straight ahead—and waving a baton. Stefana had Elly Precious, and Carrathers tramped soberly behind, in time to that imaginary wand. Miss Theodosia's fascinated gaze was riveted to the procession's arms. The wonder grew with nearness. Every individual parader in the procession wore a somber black arm-band. Elly Precious held his small member straight out from his side as if a little afraid of it.
"Evangeline!" uttered Miss Theodosia. It did not occur to her to address any one but Evangeline. Instinctively she recognized that the procession was Evangeline.
"Halt!" with an imaginary flourish. "Right about your faces!" Then Evangeline turned to Miss Theodosia and offered her sad little explanation.
"We're in mournin'," she said. "All of us are—on our sleeves. Elly
Precious's doesn't stay on very well."
"Evangeline!" again cried Miss Theodosia, this time in a startled voice.
Fears beset her. Was it the mother, or had poor Aunt Sarah raveled out?
How could it have happened so suddenly—a bolt out of the clear little
Flagg skies?
"It's you," Evangeline said. Miss Theodosia settled a little in her chair and waited. In time—Evangeline's time—she would know. Elly Precious held out his rigid little mourning arm and softly whimpered.
"Give him to me, Stefana; he wants to come to me," Miss Theodosia said, extending welcoming hands. Very gently she relieved the tension of the small arm.
"We're in mournin' for you," Evangeline explained sadly. "He said we might as well make up our minds, I tied a stockin' round his arm, but he took it off again because he said he didn't wear his stockin's—no, I guess it wasn't his stockin's; it was his heart—on his sleeves. But he said he was in mournin', too."