They stood at the corner, the clatter of the street bright about them.
"I've another call at Ninetieth. I'll ride down." Henrietta signaled the car. "Buck up, Cathy. It's all part of life, anyway. Death—" She shrugged. "That's the queer thing." Her placid mask had slipped a little. "Pleasant words to leave with you, eh?" She jeered at herself. "So long!"
As Catherine recrossed the street, she hesitated, glancing back into the shade behind the iron palings of the little park. Was that Charles, just within the gate, and that slim, elegant, tan figure beside him? She turned and fled. She wouldn't see them, not now. Not until she had fought through this thicket of resentment. After all, she had known, all the time, that what fight there was to make she must make unaided. The sun was warm and golden, and there came Spencer and Marian, shouting out, "Moth-er!" as they chased ahead of Miss Kelly.
"Oh, we had a nice time." Marian danced at her side, clinging to her arm. "Miss Kelly told us a new game."
How well they looked, and Miss Kelly, trudging to catch up with them, was serene and smiling. Letty wasn't sick. It was all a part of life. She could manage it, everything, someway!
Miss Kelly, puffing and warm, was delighted with the news about Letty.
"I was trying," she said, "to figure out some way about mother, so I wouldn't have to desert you." Catherine's quick smile saw Miss Kelly as a sunlit rock, equable, sustaining.
Flora shooed the children out of the kitchen. She was engrossed in the ceremonial preparation of stuffed peppers with Spanish sauce. Catherine, preparing orange juice for Letty, was secretly amused at the elaborate rites. Not until Flora had closed the oven door on the pan did she look up at Catherine. Then——
"Gen'man called you up, Mis' Hammond. I plumb forgot to tell you. He pestered me 'bout where you was, and I told him you was out for the air."
"Who?" Catherine poured the clear juice in to a tumbler. "Did he——" She turned quickly. "Who was it?"