The women held their needles suspended midway in the stitch, and Sidney’s voice came cheerily from the kitchen.
“Why, lands sake! It’s Mr. Martin and by the kitching too!” said Mrs. Winder bustling forward to welcome him.
He entered gracefully, greeting them all in his gentle genial way which seemed to bring him so close to their hearts; but his eyes sought out Vashti where she sat half anticipative—half dreaming of the words he would say. Somehow it seemed to her that she was taking part in a scene which had been rehearsed long since and which grew slowly into her recollection. Sidney would say—she thought the words and Sidney’s voice seemed the audible echo of the phrase, “You wanted me to come at five,” he said; “I just woke up in time; it was fortunate I did not forget. Are you going over to see your father?”
“Yes,” said Vashti, rising mechanically, a strange mingling of awe and exultation, not unmixed with fear, at her heart.
“You will excuse my wife if she is lazy to-day, Mrs. Winder,” said Sidney laughing, “but I hope you won’t follow her bad example and leave off before the six o’clock bell; we must have full time in the sewing-class!”
There was a general smile at this mild wit. Ministers’ jokes are always highly appreciated.
“What a beautiful view you get from this window,” said Sidney, looking out across to the hill. Mrs. Winder saw her opportunity and took it.
“Yes,” she said, “but you get a terrible fine view from the window in the front room—just step in, if you’ll take the trouble.” So saying Mrs. Winder threw open the door of the sacred front room, revealing all its glories to Sidney’s gaze, and preceding him with a great assumption of unconsciousness, she rolled up the paper blind and pointed out of the window.
Sidney looked, and saw almost opposite him a new frame barn whose pine walls showed glaringly and somewhat oppressively in the sun.