“Enty?” Emma’s smile was so sudden, so merry, Breeze felt confused, troubled.
The Blue Brook trickled on with a soothing purl, its surface shimmering as the wind stirred it into rolling ripples. Roses and honeysuckles added fragrance to the stench of decaying leaves and wood. A deep stillness began spinning a web over them all.
“Oh—Breeze!” Joy was calling.
“Ee—oo! I’m a-comin’!” He answered, and Emma was gone.
Joy sent him to the post-office, and when he came back with a letter, she snatched it out of his hand, but it was from the hospital and said April was improving. He’d soon come home, and he sent messages to all his friends. He craved to see them.
Dewberries were ripe, wild plums reddening, maypop vines had the roadsides purple with bloom. The day drowsed with heat, the rice-fields smelled sweaty, the sun, half-way between noon and sunset, drew out perfume from the grass and flowers.
Breeze was in the pasture picking berries for supper when the boat-whistle made a long extra blow for the landing. He stood up and held his breath to listen, for he knew something unusual had happened. It wasn’t long before Brudge came in sight, waving his arms and shouting, “Sherry’s come! De boat fetched em just now!”
Breeze sprang up in such haste, he spilled every berry in the bucket and had to stop and pick them up.
“How do e look, Brudge?”