"Who is that with the children?" she asked. A figure at the crest of the slope, coppery brown fur gleaming in the dull light. Miss Partridge!
"Mr. Bill!" called Marian, as the two plodded nearer. "Take Miss Partridge down just once."
Catherine felt, indignantly, the flush deepen in her cheeks. Why should she mind——
"Good morning," she called. "Won't you try it?"
"So sorry," came the neat, clipped accents. "I must run along to dinner. It looks like great sport." Her cold brown eyes moved from Catherine to Bill. A flash of small teeth. "Great sport. Good-by." A wave of a small, gloved hand, and she was off, swinging smartly along.
"What time is it?" Catherine avoided Bill's smile. "One! My gracious! Come along, you children."
Bill drew Letty up to the street. "Have to walk here. Snow's all gone," and when Letty sat obdurately on the sled, crying "Gid-ap!" he swung her up to his shoulder. She rode home in state, while Spencer and Marian argued about snow in the handball court, about what the carts did with the snow that was shoveled away; and Catherine walked rather silently at Bill's side.
Bill deposited Letty on the steps at the apartment entrance, where she amused herself by bouncing' her stomach against the low railing and gug-gugging at Spencer and Marian, who clattered down the area stairs with their sleds.
"I'm glad you were out for a walk this morning." Catherine wanted to break through the thin ice of constraint—or was it better to pretend that she did not see it? "I was afraid you might stay away from—us," she said quickly.