All three were silent, thinking of the changes a year had brought. Azalea had remembered that morning to trim with flowers the graves beneath the Pride of India tree, so that they would, in their way, be included in the festival. For Ma McBirney had taught her how love can live on though death comes between, and how sorrow can be turned into sweetness.
That seemed to be the secret of the whole thing anyway—turning sorrow into sweetness.
Finally Azalea spoke again. She had just set the best dishes in their place and folded up the table cover.
“And the girls,” she said musingly, “they’ve come to me too, this year—Carin and Annie Laurie. Dear me, but we do have fun!”
“Yes,” responded Ma McBirney sympathetically, “I never did see three girls have a better understanding of each other, or ones who enjoyed each other’s society more. What is it Mrs. Carson calls it?”
“The Triple Alliance,” smiled Azalea. “And now, since it’s all right about Annie Laurie’s money, I really and truly do think we’re the happiest girls in the world.”
THE END