A shadow darkened the window, breaking the blank of the sunlight beyond it. The Schoolmaster came in at the door that overlooked the road.
An exclamation drew his gaze to the far end of the room.
Mrs. Cameron held out her hand to him.
She had not seen him since the night of the fires. Deirdre went to her little lean-to of a kitchen and busied herself making tea.
When she returned, Mrs. Cameron was sitting as she had left her, on the wicker chair with her back to the light; but there was an added pain in her eyes: her hands lay limp in her lap.
Deirdre had a tray with tea and the cups on it. She set it down on the table in the middle of the room, and they gathered their chairs about it.
"What a nice home you've got," Mrs. Cameron said, smiling at the Schoolmaster. "Deirdre has turned out a wonderful housekeeper after all."
The Schoolmaster laughed.
"She was always more eager to be 'possuming and chasing calves with Davey than to be learning to cook and sew, wasn't she?" he said.
"But after a while she made butter as well as I could." Mrs. Cameron smiled. "And as for spinning, Deirdre could take my old wheel and twist up a yarn for me in no time. Will you let her come soon to stay with me for a while?"