CHAPTER XI
ANNA reached home worn and fatigued on that Saturday afternoon only to learn that Alice Lorraine was still absent. Without the knowledge of anyone, she slipped out and returned to the lane. It was she whom Alice heard pounding on the kitchen door.
Recognizing Anna, Alice clasped her in a hysterical embrace.
“I thought it was—mother!” she sobbed.
“Good heavens! is her mother such an ogre as all that!” Anna said to herself. Aloud she said lightly: “What, with my bobbed hair? I like that. No, Alice my child, your mother is waiting for you to join her at supper, and we must hike. Don’t cry any more and they won’t know. They’ll think it’s from running—for we’d better run.”
Something in her brave, tired voice went to Alice’s heart. She kissed her warmly.
“I’ll run, Anna dear, but you take your time,” she bade her. But Anna stood firm. And though they did not run, they walked fast and were not long in reaching the Hollow. Just before they came to Miss Penny’s, Alice spoke with effort.
“Anna, I want awfully to get down to the cottage to-morrow. Do you suppose I can?”
“It won’t be so easy, being Sunday. Could you possibly wait until Monday?” Anna asked in troubled tone.
“O Anna, not possibly!” cried the other girl vehemently, remembering her parting with John Converse. For they had been interrupted in the midst of what was virtually a quarrel. Alice felt as if she could not possibly let a day go by without seeing him and straightening it out. Besides, if he didn’t see her to-morrow he might feel that she was offended, or that it had been her mother and she had forbidden her to come near again.