"It don't seem hardly possible!" she said dreamily, on her return to the kitchen, where Mrs. Byron was kneading the dough.
Memory carried the older woman back to a like day in her own life. "Well, my dear," she said, from the other side of Time's river, "you'll know all about'n by to-morrow." She contemplated the blushing girl for a moment then turned to practical matters. "Did you think about bringin' out the list for groceries?"
"Never thought nothing about it." She ran off, returning with a blue-lined page, torn from a penny account book.
"Whatever you do, don't 'ee forget yer uncle's pipe."
No man shall instruct deaf ears or open the eyes of the blind. Already Sabina's optimism was reasserting itself. She had exaggerated the import of her husband's look. Leadville, poor chap, had been disappointed and had shown it. No need for her to make 'the worst of a bad bargain.'
Christmas is a time of good-will and Christmas was coming. She had noticed he was in need of a new pipe and who knew whether such an offering might not prove a milestone on the difficult road to reconciliation?
"No, I won't forget," said Gray, who saw the commission as yet another instance of nobility exercised towards the entirely undeserving. She kissed her aunt warmly. "You are a darlin'," she said. "I feel awful to leave you to do all this work," she glanced from the dough to the bread-tins, "I can't bear going."
"Well, my dear," Sabina felt the pleasantness of this young and partisan affection, "'tis only for a little while. Richbell will do so well as she can."
"Richbell'll never think to make your cocoa of a night or to get your hot-bottle and make you comfortable."
"Please God, I'll 'av you back again soon. Now you go on and be 'appy and don't you think about me. I shall be all right. There—" she glanced through the diamond panes of the window, "the mare's being tackled up, make haste."