Rosemary saw the hat and veil. They were not Aunt Trudy's. Her heart gave a sudden leap.
They went forward across the hall to the doorway of the living-room. There, in the large arm-chair, facing the door, sat a little woman with eyes like Rosemary's and dark hair like Sarah, but faintly streaked with gray across its ripples. She was thin, as though from a recent illness, but a clear pink glowed in her cheeks and her soft voice was firm and strong. Her lovely mouth smiled at the girls and she held out her arms. Doctor Hugh, standing behind her chair, laughed a little, to keep from crying he afterward said, as Sarah and Shirley hurled themselves upon their mother, both shrieking, while they waved their report cards, "We're promoted! We're promoted! We passed in every single thing!"
She took them both in her lap at once and their arms were about her neck. Across the yellow and dark head, her eyes met those of her oldest daughter. Doctor Hugh, too, looked at Rosemary.
She had not moved from the doorway since Sarah and Shirley had brushed past her in their mad rush. Standing motionless and speechless, a slender hand on either side of the doorframe, she watched her sisters claim the mother's first kiss. Then, as the beautiful eyes were raised to hers, she made an effort to speak. All the love and longing and loneliness of the past year, not fully felt till now, rushed to her voice. She took a step forward.
"Mother!" said Rosemary.