Harbor Street, Fishers Haven, runs north and south. On your left, as you walk up it, you can see a line of blue across green meadows and hear the faint roar of the surf. Everything looked washed and clean; the little houses white with green shutters, set in tiny green yards. Eve said it was a picture village out of a scouring powder advertisement.
We were walking up from the bus stop. There was no railroad in Fishers Haven. It seemed good to stretch our legs after the all-day train ride. I was carrying my suitcase, which was pretty heavy, but I didn’t mind. The bus driver had directed us: “Turn the corner at the drug store, it’s the third house.”
There it was! White like the others, with a small front yard, bordered on two sides by a neat hedge. A brick walk led up to a narrow front stoop. Our eyes were lifted anxiously to the door as we mounted the steps. It had, I could not suppress the thought, a very closed look. I lifted the knocker with some trepidation; it seemed like an intrusion to make a noise in so silent a place.
It was a feeble knock, but no sooner had it died away when we heard a window raised above us and a voice called, “Go round to the back and wipe your feet on the mat.”
Eve giggled. How I loved her for it!
The grass in the side yard had been freshly mowed and smelled deliciously. “Syringas, too!” Eve inhaled rapturously. “I’m going to sleep out in that lily-of-the-valley bed,” she whispered, “and pretend I’m a dryad!”
“Hush! Here she is.”
A small woman in a big white apron was standing on the back porch. Her eyes were dark and very bright, and her nose had a kind of pinched-in look as if she were smelling of something. Her expression was—well, speculative.
“So here you are!” she said, holding out a bony, work-worn hand. “I guess you’re Sandra. You’ve got the Hutton nose.”
“Have I?” I laughed. And, moved by an impulse for which I was quite unable to account, I stooped and kissed her where her hair was parted flatly on her forehead. “This is my best friend, Eve Fordyce,” I said before she had recovered from her surprise at my salutation.