As she got up and stood there, patting herself to see whether she were tidy, her laughing eyes caught Rachel.
“There! You see! I’m no good at that!—no imagination—father’s always said so.”
“Katie,” Rachel said, catching her soft, warm, almost chubby hand, “there’s nothing the matter, is there?”
“The matter! No! what should there be?”
“It’s so odd for you to say what you did just now. And I think—I don’t know—you’re different to-day.”
“No, I’m not.” Katherine looked at her. “It was the damp Park, all the bare trees and nobody about.”
“But it’s so unlike you to think of damp Parks and bare trees.”
“Well—perhaps it’s because Millie’s coming back from Paris this afternoon. I shall be terrified of her—so smart she’ll be!”
“Give her my love and bring her here as soon as she’ll come. She’ll amuse Roddy.” She paused, searching in Katherine’s brown eyes—“Katie—if there’s ever—anything—anything—I can help you in or advise you—or do for you. You know, don’t you?... You always will be so independent. You don’t tell me things. Remember I’ve had my times—worse times than you guess.”
Katherine kissed her. “It’s all right, Rachel, there’s nothing the matter—except that ... no, nothing at all. Good-bye, dear. Don’t come down. I’ll bring Millie over.”