In the meantime, Maida still remained in her room. She made her bed with fierce determined motions, as though it were a work of destruction rather than construction. She dusted her bureau with swift slapping strokes. Then she sat down by the window. Why was she cross, she didn’t know; but undoubtedly she was cross. She didn’t want to go anywhere; she didn’t want to play games; to see anybody; least of all to talk. Why—when ordinarily she was so sociable, she should have this feeling she had no idea. Nevertheless it was there.
From various directions, sound of voices came to her; Rosie’s and Laura’s from the garden; the boys from the barn; the little children from House Rock. Rosie and Laura were nearer, but she could not hear what they were saying. And of course she made no attempt to listen. Later she heard them go around to the barn—she knew they were off on the morning marketing. Still Maida continued to sit listlessly looking out of the window.
A long time seemed to go by.
Presently she heard in the distance, the sound of Laura and Rosie returning. They were evidently in a great state of excitement. She could hear them chattering about something as they came up the trail to the house. She did not feel like talking, but she knew it was her duty to meet them, to apologize for her rudeness, to go on with the usual games of the day. She caught the rattle with which the two girls put their bicycles in place; then their swift rush to the kitchen. At the door she got in Rosie’s high excited tones, “Where’s Maida, Granny?”
“Still upstairs,” Granny answered. “I haven’t heard her stir.”
“We’ve got something to tell her,” Rosie went on swiftly.
“And the most dreadful thing has happened,” Laura put in simultaneously. Then talking together in phrases that broke one against the other or overlapped, “A dreadful accident ... Silva Burle ... this morning ... she was on her bicycle ... man just learning to run an automobile ... knocked her off ... picked up senseless.... It happened in front of Fosdick house ... took her in ... there now....”
“How is the poor choild?” Maida heard Granny ask compassionately.
“Nothing broken,” Laura answered eagerly, “but it was a long time before she came to.”
“She’s not unconscious any longer,” Rosie concluded the story. “She’s asleep, but she moans and mutters all the time.”