One thing yet she looked forward to with eager hope, and that was the time when her blind boy might have the benefit of skilful treatment for his eyes, with the possibility of sight. It might take years of saving yet, but every day that they could all work made the time of waiting one day less. So she was hardly less rejoiced at the renewal of their tasks than were the boys themselves.
It was a bright day, and warm, too, for December; she thought of it afterward, how fair the day was. But it was lonely without her boys. It had been weeks since they had been away from her all day so; and, long before the sun went down, she began to wish for their coming.
She made supper early, and set out a few treasured dainties on the table, in honor of the first day’s work. Then, while the shadows grew indistinct, and the darkness settled down upon the earth, she sat by the window and saw the stars come out, and waited for her boys.
Suddenly there came a jar, the house rocked slightly, the windows rattled, and a dish on the pantry-shelf fell to the floor and was broken.
The Widow Taylor started to her feet, and stood, for a moment, wondering what it could mean. Then she opened the door of her cottage and looked out.
Other women were standing by their gates, and men were hurrying past her in the darkness.
“What’s happened?” she called out, to a neighbor.
“A fall,” came back the answer; “it must ’a’ been a fall.”
“Where?”
She asked the question with a dreadful apprehension settling down upon her.