"Oh, you understand!" she exclaimed. "You understand!"
"I understand, my dear," said Mrs. St. Cloud.
When Vivian reached her own gate she leaned her arms upon it and looked first one way and then the other, down the long, still street. The country was in sight at both ends—the low, monotonous, wooded hills that shut them in. It was all familiar, wearingly familiar. She had known it continuously for such part of her lifetime as was sensitive to landscape effects, and had at times a mad wish for an earthquake to change the outlines a little.
The infrequent trolley car passed just then and Sue Elder joined her, to take the short cut home through the Lane's yard.
"Here you are," she said cheerfully, "and here are the books."
Vivian thanked her.
"Oh, say—come in after supper, can't you? Aunt Rella's had another letter from Mort."
Vivian's sombre eyes lit up a little.
"How's he getting on? In the same business he was last year?" she asked with an elaborately cheerful air. Morton had seemed to change occupations oftener than he wrote letters.
"Yes, I believe so. I guess he's well. He never says much, you know. I don't think it's good for him out there—good for any boy." And Susie looked quite the older sister.