"It is the last."
"Good." Emma breathed her fill of the balmy air that came in a gentle stream through the door. "Isn't this weather wonderful?"
"It's heavenly!" Barbara sighed.
Emma hid a smile. Barbara had walked light-footed and light hearted for most of the winter, and nothing had worn a plain face since the night of the storm. She saw beauty in everything, even the cabin's rough-hewn rafters, and Emma had done nothing to mar her joy. Hurt would come to Barbara as it came to everyone, but hurt, work and struggling were some of the catalysts that fused a marriage. Emma worked busily on.
She was happy for Barbara and Ellis, but she knew that Ellis retained a streak of wildness. That was not extraordinary; no young man worth his salt is contented to plod along like an ox or a cow. Emma had been pretty much satisfied with her son-in-law-to-be since Christmas Eve when she'd talked to him and she felt reasonably sure he'd outgrow his wildness, but she did not discount the possibility that Ellis's temper and impulsiveness might lead him astray, or cause the engagement to be broken before he'd had time to outgrow it. She laid the mended trousers on the table and thrust her threaded needle into her apron front. Barbara finished Tad's shirt and hung it on a peg.
"That's all, Mother."
"We do seem to be caught up." Emma glanced critically at Barbara's mending and found it good. "But let me show you something."
She went to her trunk and from it took three partial bolts of gingham, one blue, one brown and one tan, and unfolded a strip of each one as she laid them on the table.
"What do you think of it?"
Barbara's eyes sparkled. She touched the cloth with gentle fingers and stroked it.