It worried her, this continual losing. She never heard that these lost ones got found again. Suppose she herself got lost in this irretrievable way? How dreadful it would be. What would her family do? In justice to Easter one must allow that the thought of her people’s consternation quite overshadowed any possibly unpleasant consequences to herself.
She had never discussed the question with Chris, who knew a lot about the war and wanted to talk about it to the exclusion of more interesting topics—such as daughters. But this was easily overruled. Moreover, Easter’s mother had decided that far too much was said about the war in Chris’s hearing, and she had asked Miss Radley to warn him not to talk about it to Easter lest it should upset her.
Miss Radley had her own opinion of Easter’s sensibility. She had not taught the children for six months without discovering which was the more susceptible and imaginative. But she did as she was bid, and Chris had done his best to obey in his turn. Perhaps in a lofty masculine way he was rather proud that he should be allowed to know things closely hidden from the domineering Easter, and was therefore the less anxious to share his knowledge with her.
He whole-heartedly admired Easter. She was so strong, so good at things, so invariably cheerful and well, with a never-failing fund of good spirits and energy. It is very possible that one of her chief attractions for him lay in the fact that she seemed so entirely outside those great and grave anxieties that obsessed everybody else.
Easter was brought up to understand that any “career” that she chose was open to her. She should have an equal chance with any of her brothers; she might be a doctor for a factory inspector, or a police-woman, or go in for any art or craft she fancied. Literature, art, music, even the stage, were to be open to her, should she so wish. But, so far, her sole ambition was centred in the possession of a husband, a meek husband, and eight meek daughters to move and have their being at her decree.
It was the swing of the pendulum with a vengeance.
No one told Easter about Chris’s daddy that afternoon. In the evening she prepared her lessons with her customary energy and intelligence, and giggled cheerfully from time to time at the recollection of Chris’s comical appearance as he lay floundering in the ditch.
“That’ll teach him,” said Easter to herself, “whether it’s to be daughters or not!”
Next morning at breakfast her mother said: “Miss Radley can’t take you to-day, Easter dear, so it’s no use your going over. They had very bad news yesterday, and Mrs. Denver has had to go to France. The major is very ill.”
“Has Chris gone?” Easter asked.