291“O, Catherine, my darling, if you dare begin on that sad Rossetti woman!” cried Alice. “You don’t know how dreadful she is about it, Hannah! She goes about for days with a distant sad look in her eyes and, if she is spoken to suddenly, she says, ‘When I was dead my spirit turned,’ or ‘Does the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end!’ or something equally doleful. I feel as though some one were dying in the next room, and I do believe I’ll hide the book.”
“It won’t do you any good,” remarked Catherine serenely. “I know almost all of her by heart. But you must admit, Allie, that I do say cheerful things at times. You got sick of the Jumblies last year.”
“They were as idiotic as the Rossetti lady, in another way. We’ll never agree on such subjects, Catherine!”
“Well, anyhow, Catherine isn’t going to read so much poetry this year,” said Hannah.
“And Hannah is going to read more,” rejoined Catherine, at which Hannah made a wry face and set them all laughing.
“Dexter!”
“Already? O, Hannah darling, how can we ever let you go on without us?”
All three were kissing her, but Hannah laughed at their sorrowful faces.
“I’ll go out on the platform with you. And I’ll 292 carry the hat-box, Catrina. Shall you have a spread to-night? Oh! it’s the same dear little, queer little station! And there’s Miss Eliot, and Dy-the Allen! Glory! Glory! Glory! Dy-the, going on this train? Joy and rapture! I should have died of loneliness!”
And Hannah plunged down the steps and threw out her arms to embrace Dy-the, when thud! out fell the bottom of the hat-box, and with it Grandma Hopkins’ lovely cake!