"That's talking. You write and take that job, instanter! I'll look around for a woman for you. When can you come down?" Henrietta withdrew her hand.
"That's another thing." Catherine frowned. "Dr. Roberts says as soon as possible. School doesn't open, though, for two weeks. I don't like to drag the children back."
"You see?" Henrietta made an impatient lunge with her foot.
"I'll have to think that out."
They sat in silence for a few moments. Then Henrietta rose.
"I'm glad we blew in," she said. "But we have to start off early."
"You've helped." Catherine stood in front of her friend, her hands clasped loosely. "I'll hunt you up in town, when I need an injection of common sense."
She went through the quiet house, setting the screen in front of the crimson ash of the fire, turning down the lamp, hanging away the red sweater Letty had worn home, placing a row of damp little sandals on the kitchen steps where the morning sun would dry them. She stood there for a moment, looking off across the water. A huge crimson star hung low in the east; she thought she caught a flicker of reflection in the dark stretch of water. Perhaps it was only a late firefly.
For hours she lay awake, staring out at the great birch tree, watching the faint motion of its leaves, and the slipping through them of the Big Dipper as it wheeled slowly down its arc.