This idea so inspired her that she arrived home quite elated, and stated her plan to Mrs. Soule at dinner-time with much animation.
But later in the evening, the groups of men she had seen on “the corporation” came back to her mind and caused her a certain feeling of uneasiness. What had they been talking about so excitedly as she drew near?
It was one of those suddenly warm nights in January that succeed, in our fickle climate, a bitter cold day, and Salome felt an unaccountable desire to be in the open air. She threw on a warm wrap and hood, and saying nothing, went out on the piazza, and crossed the lawn to a favorite walk of hers in summer—a path under a long group of fir-trees down by the street at the back of the house.
After a few turns, she heard a peculiar whistle which was answered by another.
She withdrew still more into the shadow and waited. Presently two men met.
“Well, what’s the news?” eagerly asked one.
“Sh—sh! not so loud,” replied the other. “It’s all right, and better than we expected.”
“Why—how better?” asked the first.
They spoke lower, so that Salome could scarcely catch the tones.
“Because,” the first was saying, “the old man himself has gone down to the mill.”