“The one who is on her feet most.”
And so, while Northrup settled down in King’s Forest, and his mother fancied him travelling far, Kathryn set her pretty lips close and jotted down the address of Helen Northrup’s letter in a small red book.
CHAPTER III
Mary-Clare stood in the doorway of the little yellow house. Her mud-stained clothes gave evidence that the recent storm had not kept her indoors––she was really in a very messy, caked state––but it was always good to breathe the air after a big storm; it was so alive and thrilling, and she had put off a change of dress while she debated a second trip. There was a stretching-out look on Mary-Clare’s face and her eyes were turned to a little trail leading into the hilly woods across the highway.
Noreen came to the door and stood close to her mother. Noreen was only six, but at times she looked ageless. When the child abandoned herself to pure enjoyment, she talked baby talk and––played. But usually she was on guard, in a fierce kind of blind adoration for her mother. Just what the child feared no one could tell, but there was a constant appearance of alertness in her attitude even in her happiest moments.
“I guess you want the woods, Motherly?” The small up-turned face made the young mother’s heart beat quicker; the tie was strong between them.
“I do, Noreen. It has been ten whole days since I had them.”
“Well, Motherly, why don’t you go?”