Kit regarded her admiringly, as they all started back down the woodroad towards home, Molly trailing along behind leisurely.
"I believe Cousin Roxy was perfectly right. She told me long ago, Piney, before I ever knew you, that you knew where every single wild flower bloomed in all Gilead Township, and every cow path and brook."
Piney's eyes held a little wistful gleam, but she smiled with the old dauntless tilt to her head.
"I guess I do around Greenacres," she said. "You see, Honey and I always thought it would be our home some day, and about the first thing that I can remember is mother telling us all the places around here that she loved best when she was a girl. I suppose that's why I remember them all."
Doris and Helen were far ahead, trying to get down some branches of dogwood that hung invitingly over the stone wall at the side of the road, and Kit laid one hand in comradely fashion on Piney's shoulder. What she meant to say was how wonderful and brave she had always thought Piney was, and how oftentimes, when her own pluck failed her, she would think of the Hancocks and how they had kept their faces valiantly turned to the sunny side of care through all the years of necessity and privation, but girls are curious people, and all that she really said was:
"Life's awfully queer, isn't it, Piney?"
Piney nodded with a little smile.
"It's fun though," she said, "if you just keep your face to the front and never look behind."