The woman looked at him in silence a moment, then turned short around and walked with quick steps away. La Fay stood frowning, with clenched fists, in the doorway. In the farther corner of the kitchen “the young one” was crouched in a chair, crying. The boys had turned away, but the drama had come to a sudden termination and they approached again.
DECEMBER
La Fay saw them. “She’s been back,” he said; “but I’ve sent her packing again. She came early this morning while I was away. She was here through the storm.”
It was a painful subject, and John hastened to say that they had packed up ready to go to the train.
“My horse is out there by the barn hitched into my lumber-wagon,” said La Fay, “but I’ll change him into the carryall. I’ll be ready inside of ten minutes.”
A PATH IN THE WINTER WOODS
“All right, then,” John responded; “we’ve got a little more to do to our bundles, and we’ll be over there with them.”
At the edge of the woods they looked up the road leading away from the clearing, and just beyond sight of the house they saw the woman again. Her arms were about her head, and she was leaning face forward against a big chestnut-tree. Once she clasped her hands and gave a sudden look upward. Then she resumed the former position.