Kit looked at her doubtfully. She thoroughly realized the state of mind that will not let itself be happy, that in fact, finds its happiness in being unhappy, but Abby’s moroseness baffled her.
“Don’t you like it here?” she asked.
Abby nodded.
“Don’t you know anyone?”
“Know most of them.”
“Then what is it?” Kit laid her arm timidly around the stooped shoulders and at the touch of real human sympathy, Abby’s reserve melted.
“My new shoes pinch awful,” she exploded.
Kit took her straight up to the house to her own room, and ransacked closets and shoe boxes until she found a pair of loafers to fit Abby, and the latter came down again smiling and radiant, ready to serve ice cream, or make herself agreeable in any way she could.
Sally came up to the porch, personally conducting her mother to Mrs. Craig. She was a tall, fair-haired woman with deep dimples like the children’s and a happy face. Seated in a chair on the porch with the roses and honeysuckle shedding a perfume around, she breathed a sigh of relief.
“Seems so nice to sit up here again, Mrs. Craig,” she said. “Sally’s told me all about how you’ve fixed the place up till it seemed as if I couldn’t wait to see it. I used to drive over once in a while after Father died, and get some slips of flowering quince and rose bushes to set out. You know I love every blade of grass in the garden and every pine cone on those trees.”