When she saw him she threw the ball to the children, and came forward to the window.
"Does Janey want me?" she asked.
"No. She is asleep."
"Do you want me?"
"I want to see you go on with your game."
"It is not my game," she answered, smiling. "It is Jack's and Meg's. Suppose you come and join them. It will fill them with rapture, and I shall like to look on."
When he came out she sat down under a tree leaning against the trunk, and watched him, her eyes following the swift flight of the ball high into the blue above them, as he flung it upward among the delighted clamor of the children. He had always excelled in sports and feats of strength, and in this simple feat of throwing the ball his physical force and grace displayed themselves to decided advantage. The ball went up, as an arrow flies from the bow, hurtling through the air, until it was little more than a black speck to the eye. When it came back to earth he picked it up and threw it again, and each time it seemed to reach a greater height than the last.
"That is very fine," she said. "I like to see you do it."
"Why?" he asked, pausing.
"I like the force you put into it," she answered. "It scarcely seems like play."