Keeping time to the rhythm of her steps, Phoebe chanted softly in a rich, clear voice:
“‘The Lord is my shepherd: I shall not want.
“‘He maketh me to lie down in the green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.’”
The whir of the motor car interrupted the chanting, and, with an absent-minded glance over her shoulder, she stepped to the side of the road to wait for it to pass.
But the “Comet” stopped short and all the occupants called out, “Good morning,” with an especial cordiality.
Phoebe bowed her head gravely. Her eyes had a remote expression as if she had been awakened from a dream. Ben opened the door of the car and jumped out, while Billie exclaimed:
“I am so glad we met you, Phoebe, because now you will let us give you a lift.”
Phoebe looked into Billie’s kind gray eyes for a moment and then smiled as if she had found something there that pleased her.
“I will come,” she said, as Ben took the basket from her arm and helped her into the car.
“Have you walked across the mountain this morning?” he asked, when they had started on their way again.
“I started early,” she said, “when it was cool.”