Straight up the walk she came, determined and self possessed, with a certain air of dignity which neither poverty nor years of isolation could take from her.
Cousin Roxy watched her with reminiscent eyes, quoting softly:
“You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.”
“Cynthy used to be the best dancer of all the girls when I was young, and I’ll never forget how the rest of us envied her beautiful hands. She was an old maid even then, in the thirties, but slim and pretty as could be.”
Jean hurried to the side door, opening it wide to greet her.
“I didn’t think you’d mind my coming so early,” she said apologetically, “but I’ve had that rose on my mind ever since you were all over to see me.”
“Oh, do come right in, Miss Allan,” Jean exclaimed warmly. “What a long, long walk you’ve had.”
“ ’Tain’t but two miles and a half by the road,” Cynthy answered as sprightly as could be. “I don’t mind it much when I’ve got something ahead of me. You see, I’ve been wanting to ride up to Moosup this long while to get some rags woven into carpets and I need that rose for my hat something fearful.”
Jean led her through the long side entry way and into the cheery warm sitting room before she hardly realized where she was going, until she found herself facing Cousin Roxy and Mrs. Robbins.